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mediaevalmusereads · 4 years ago

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Master of Crows. By Grace Draven. Self Published (?), 2009.

Rating: 2/5 stars

Genre: fantasy romance

Part of a Series? Yes, Master of Crows #1

Summary: What would you do to win your freedom? This is the question that sets bondwoman, Martise of Asher, on a dangerous path. In exchange for her freedom, she bargains with her masters, the mage-priests of Conclave, to spy on the renegade sorcerer, Silhara of Neith. The priests want Martise to expose the sorcerer's treachery and turn him over to Conclave justice. A risky endeavor, but one she accepts without hesitation--until she falls in love with her intended target. Silhara of Neith, Master of Crows, is a desperate man. The god called Corruption invades his mind, seducing him with promises of limitless power if he will help it gain dominion over the world. Silhara struggles against Corruption's influence and searches for ways to destroy the god. When Conclave sends Martise as an apprentice to help him, he knows she's a spy. Now he fights a war on two fronts -against the god who would possess him and the apprentice who would betray him. Mage and spy search together for a ritual that will annihilate Corruption, but in doing so, they discover secrets about each other that may damn them both. Silhara must decide if his fate, and the fate of nations, is worth the soul of the woman he has come to love, and Martise must choose continued enslavement or freedom at the cost of a man's life. And love.

***Full review under the cut.***

Content Warnings: sexual content, blood, magical violence

Overview: After being a little lukewarm on Radiance, I decided to give Grace Draven one more try, mostly because her books seem to be popular on tumblr. I picked up Master of Crows on a whim, and though I think it has more plot than Radiance, the main characters were really not to my taste. For me, Martise was too passive and Silhara was too much of a jerk to be likeable, and the massive power imbalance between the two meant that I didn’t really root for their relationship to succeed. Thus, this book only gets 2 stars from me.

Writing: Draven’s prose is fairly straight-forward. It’s easy to get through and it flows well, giving the reader just enough to know what’s going on. I don’t really have any criticisms for its simplicity because Draven is writing within romance, and the point isn’t to be poetic. Rather, it gets the job done, and I think most readers will appreciate that.

Where I do think I can criticize this book is in the repetition of phrases. More than twice, I saw the term “half mast” used to convey when a character’s eyes were half open, and I think I saw “tattoo” used multiple times to describe a rapid rhythm or tapping. It’s not the biggest deal, but I was definitely pulled out of the story when I noticed these things.

I also think I can criticize Draven for telling us some things that should have been shown. We’re told, for instance, that Silhara isn’t a noble man, that he’s selfish and ambitious, etc. but we’re never really shown scenes of him acting out of ambition or being actually tempted to give in to Corruption’s influence. I would have liked to see Silhara be put in positions where he is making choices or doing things that make the reader think he was susceptible to Corruptions influence. Maybe we see him researching spells for making himself more powerful. Maybe something happens on page with Conclave that is so bad, he starts seriously considering Corruption’s offer to give him revenge. It could be argued that we do get some of that, but it felt like everything was told to us, or happened in the past, and we were expected to absorb it.

Plot: Most of the non-romance plot of this book revolves around Silhara trying to figure out how to destroy the god Corruption while Martise acts as a spy, trying to get some dirt on him so the Conclave (a collection of priests/mages) will have an excuse to kill him. To be honest, I thought the initial premise was a good one; I liked the idea of conflicting loyalties and the eventual shift from enemies (of a sort) to lovers.

However, I do not think this plot was handled well, mainly because Corruption seemed to be a background threat. Multiple times throughout the book, we see Silhara be more or less tormented by the god, whether through dreams that keep him up at night, through disrupting Silhara’s magic abilities, through manifestations, and through temporary possession. While scary, I don’t think these scenes had much lasting impact, which didn’t make Corruption feel like a real threat. If Silhara is being kept awake at night, for example, I want to see scenes where his sleep deprivation gets him in trouble. If his magic is out of control, I want to see scenes where he has to decide whether he wants to risk using it or if he should go through his life without his powers. Something other than Corruption just being a lurking boogeyman that occasionally pops up and becomes a nuisance rather than a real, omnipresent force.

I also think Martise’s plot was a bit weak, mainly because we’re never really shown her having conflicting feelings or arguing with herself about whether or not to give Silhara to the Conclave. Martise is a slave, and her master promises to free her if she can get dirt on Silhara. While fine, the desire for freedom never seemed like a driving force for Martise; we never see her digging through Silhara’s study for potential dirt, of trying to eavesdrop or do other things that would show her actively trying to achieve her goal. Instead, Martise is rather passive, waiting for information to come to her, and she never really wrestles with her life as a slave, not the decision of whether or not to report Silhara once she falls in love with him. I would have liked to see more angst or at least more of an evolution where it felt like Martise had an arc independent of her service or usefulness to Silhara.

Characters: Martise, our heroine, is rather passive and seems to exist mainly to be used. I really didn’t like that she seemed to have no ambition or agency; she mostly waited for things to happen to her, and only shows agency towards the end, when the big showdown happens. Even her “gift” - the magic ability which lays dormant in her until Silhara awakens it - seems to be built around her being a tool to be used, and I was extremely disappointed that her arc didn’t seem to be about empowering her as a woman or as an ex-slave.

Silhara, our hero, is the type of love interest I absolutely hate. He’s extremely powerful, but is a complete jerk to the heroine and commits random violence towards other people out of jealousy. While we’re told over and over again that Martise loves him because he’s a good person at heart, I really didn’t see it. He not only beats up someone who speaks poorly of Martise, but he also seems comfortable ordering her around and treating her as a servant until the very end. The only redeeming qualities he had seemed to be that he doesn’t like people treating women poorly (which, ok, I guess) and he’s kind to his servant, Gurn. Other than that, he’s not an alluring figure.

Side characters were fun, if under utilized. Gurn is Silhara’s mute servant who uses a kind of sign language to communicate. I really liked this character because it inserts some disability representation, and I liked his relationship with Martise. The two seemed to bond over their shared status as servants, and I honestly wish there had been more of an arc or exploration about class with these two. Other characters served their purposes. Cumbria, Martise’s owner, is largely absent, but manages to look bad in every way. He’s not a super compelling antagonist just because he’s not on the page too often, but when he is, I think Draven did a good job not making him over-the-top evil. He’s mostly just greedy and petty, and I wish he had been used more deliberately in conjunction with Silhara’s exile as a commentary on corruption within religious orders. Corruption, the god, is a different story. As I explained in the plot section above, Corruption isn’t much more than a boogeyman, and I got really tired of him really fast.

I’m not sure how to feel, however, about the Kurman people in this book. The Kurmans are a nation/ethnic group/tribe/society with some rather odd gender dynamics. Women can apparently own property and vote, and they are supposedly respected, but they are kept separate from men much of the time, wait on men at feasts, can’t meet men’s eyes unless they want to communicate sexual availability, and so on. It was rather bizarre to me, and I seemed to be getting conflicting ideas about whether or not this society was feminist or not. I also wasn’t sure if they were supposed to be modeled on any real-life ethnic groups or societies; they are described as wearing pointy shoes, having swarthy/dark skin, having multiple wives, etc. so I got the impression that they might have been like Arabs, Mongols, or Ethiopians (due to the food they eat, etc), but if so, I didn’t quite like how Silhara refers to them as “barbarian,” even if it was in jest.

Romance: I couldn’t get on board with this romance. At all. Martise was already too subservient as a character, and while I get that some of this could be a survival technique, it didn’t make sense that Silhara would fall for her based on the ways in which she surprised or challenged him. Because she barely did. She never called Silhara out in any meaningful way and seemed to go along with whatever he wanted until the end.

Most of my discomfort, however, comes from two main issues: 1.) Silhara never seems to put Martise’s well-being first, and 2.) there is a huge power imbalance between the two that isn’t corrected until the very end, and Silhara never seems to be interested in leveling the playing field. First, Martise’s well-being: Silhara constantly offered comments that seemed to tear Martise down or, at the very least, be a back-handed compliment. He never seems to want to find ways of making her happy, and he centers his own desire and well-being even after big things happen. For instance, in a scene where Silhara is temporarily possessed by Corruption, he hurts Martise so badly that she cannot speak (as in, he chokes her almost to blackout). When he is freed from possession, he never seems to care about what he did to Martise or how she might be in pain. Instead, the first thing he does is order Martise to get away from him, then he orders Gurn to look after Martise to make sure she’s ok. All the while, he focuses on his own pain and jokes about his balls (which Martise kicked in order to free herself from his grasp). I was flabbergasted - why wouldn’t you want to make sure for yourself your lover is ok after something like that?

Second, the power imbalance. Even though Silhara doesn’t know Martise is a slave for the majority of the book, he does take her into his household as a servant, and has no qualms about ordering her about or taking advantage of her gentle nature. You’d think that if someone fell in love with a servant, much of the romance would be about overcoming class barriers or finding some way to put the two characters on equal footing. Sometimes, this is done by the lower class person having a sharper wit or calling out the upper class person on things that make them change for the better. Martise and Silhara never seem to have that arc. Martise calls Silhara “Master” throughout the whole book, and Silhara didn’t seem uncomfortable with it except when they were having sex. He never stops presuming to give Martise orders and expecting she obey them, not even at the very end when the question of her freedom gets resolved. And there are books out there where this class barrier is done well (Jane Eyre comes to mind), so I think Draven could have put more work into exploring the dynamics and how Martise is a match for Silhara, even given her status and lack of magic (at least, for a while).

TL;DR: Master of Crows has a good premise, but ultimately suffers from unlikeable or passive protagonists, a weak plot, and a romance with uneven power dynamics.

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theshinobiway · 5 years ago

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This Week’s Episode

I just watched it, and boy do I have opinions.

They’ll be published in full later because right now I’m a little too agitated at yet another forced “Naruto definitely changed the Hyuga!” that SP has slid into Boruto to save a failed arc. The Hyuga have poor writing, and if anything I’m absolutely furious at the logical fallacy of ‘willing’ sacrifice they keep championing as a noble cause.

To summarize my thoughts for right now:

The Hyuga had three original issues, as brought up by Neji in the original Chunin Exams Arc.

I. The Caged Bird Seal (Subjugation)

No, Naruto did not keep his promise. The Hyuga have no evidence of being ‘changed’ aside from Hiashi’s ‘soft’ attitude. The fate of the seal (the ORIGINAL ISSUE) is still indeterminate at best. There have been no comments made about the Caged Bird Seal in Boruto, even in conversations between adults. This is not evidence that the seal is retired.

And on top of that, I’m not convinced that it may be gone for this very reason:

During the war arc, Neji and the other branch members still had their seals, even though Hiashi made a throwaway comment that the clan was “unified.” Thus, even if we buy into the narrative that the clan was ‘unified’ by the time of the Fourth war, the removal and retiring of the seal was not necessary for the arc to be considered ‘closed.’

Edit: I'm aware that Neji stated that the seal is only removed upon death. I'm currently researching further into the matter, but I think it's extremely unlikely that the seal is completely irrevocable given that Sasuke/Itachi/Anko were able to disable and/or remove their own seals from Orochimaru, which were the same level (A-Class) of seal.

Uh, pardon me?

The issue with the seal is its very existence. To remedy the original issue, the story must either create a seal without a ‘punish’ function, or remove all of the seals. Otherwise, the conflict is not resolved.

The Caged Bird seal can, at any time, be used to quell dissent in the household so long as it exists. The seal was also portrayed as evil and horrifying in the original series by all who come to know of it. Why has this not been addressed?

II. The Structure of the Household (Power Dynamics)

The Hyuga STILL HAVE BRANCH AND MAIN HOUSES. Note that other major clans (Such as the Akimichi, the Aburame, the Uchiha, the Nara, etc.) do not adhere to this structure in the same way that the Hyuga do. This is because the traditional Japanese family head/branch structure always made provisions for candidates outside the direct lineage to succeed power if deemed necessary, usually by proving themselves to the head.

This happened between Hanabi/Hinata, but was never an option for branch family members.

Also, Hanabi’s skill did not match Neji’s in any capacity. In a real-life historical scenario, one of two things would have occurred:

Neji would have been suggested to compete for headship due to his skill and family-wide recognition of his abilities, especially because he also had the clan head (Hiashi’s) recognition. Neji would have faced either Hanabi or Hinata. This may or may not have caused issue within the family, but would have been even more unlikely if the (more likely) second situation happened, which is:

In a historical scenario, particularly because Neji was in extremely close relation to Hiashi already AND his father had died, Neji would have very likely been adopted by Hiashi into the Main family and been treated as his real son. This would only be further supported by the fact that Hiashi felt so strongly about his responsibility to his brother, making the care for his brother’s offspring an obvious duty.

This did not happen because the Hyuga household is a twist on the actual version of the feudal family structure. Branch houses were never subjugated to the main family, they swore fealty willingly for protection and privileges (and did not have to be related by blood!)

The original main/branch structure is respected due to the innate moral/cultural beliefs in honor, sworn fealty, and duty. The presence of the Caged Bird Seal is the introduction of subjugation by force, threatened torture, and fear and is a subversion of this structure.

Also, please stop comparing the Hyuga Branch members to Western (particularly American) slavery. I cringe so hard every time I see a rant about Hinata/Hiashi being Neji’s “slave owner.” This completely disregards the culture from which the story comes from. While branch members in the Hyuga are subjugated, they are akin to ‘expendable vassals,’ ‘servants,’ and ‘bodyguards.’ Slaves would not be allowed to operate as active shinobi (soldiers) and to work for the greater government. Hiashi is their “lord,’ not their ‘master.’

III. The Fate of the Branch...To die for the Main (Authority)

This part of the storyline officially closed after Neji died because it was an unfulfilled arc.

Neji wanted freedom from his preordained orders to die for the main branch at command. Hizashi wanted the same.

The logical issue with their “freedom” is as follows:

If someone puts a gun to your head and tells you to flip a switch that will electrocute you to death, you have two options:

1. Flip the switch (death)

2. Refuse, be shot (death)

In the strictest sense, you might be able to convince yourself that you may willingly choose to die by your own hand and flip the switch. But, had there been no outside controlling force (the gun) you would likely have never chosen to willingly flip the switch. Any person could just as willingly say that they “choose to die by the gun” instead and there would no change in the moral outcome of this scenario.

This is because there is no choice (freedom) to change the outcome of the situation. This is what Neji meant by fate/predestination in the original series, and why the only shared fate is ‘death.’

The Hyuga Branch wanted the freedom from being forced to die upon command.

“But Neji died to save Hinata and Naruto! He wasn’t forced!” -- Yes. The issue with Neji is that Kishi deliberately parallels the narrative of his father and had even placed Neji’s character in that situation to begin with.

The Naruto series keeps falsely trying to shove this twisted version of ‘freedom’ as though it were a noble choice. Both Hiashi and Neji did not have the freedom to choose to ‘live’ and were thus always lacking the power to change the outcome.

Neji’s death was a deliberate parallel of his father and meant to once again uphold the same philosophical idea that Kishi and SP keep hammering: That the scenario I outlined above is true ‘freedom.’ No, it’s a coercive choice.

I can’t respect the writing for supporting a blatant logical fallacy, which is why the Hyuga storyline is a failed piece of writing. It would be better if SP just dropped it and buried it like they did in Shippuden, because this is a sinking ship.

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fyrapartnersearch · 5 years ago

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Seeking NSFW long-term RP Partner [m/f, f/f, third person, literate].

Hello, I am reposting this ad because the partners who I had chosen were no longer interested. That being said, if you have contacted me before and I haven’t replied to you, it’s because I had already found my partners. People seem to want to know even if I am full, though, so this time I will try harder and message everyone back to inform them that I have found enough partners if it comes to it.

Having said that, please don’t be afraid to remessage me again. I have added a few more plots in here, this time with a more detailed summary and not simply a pairing. Have a look and see if you like anything!

Disclaimer: I am above 18 and all characters in the RP will be so as well.

What are you looking for exactly?

Someone who is okay with the main focus of the roleplay being of an erotic/smut kind. That being said, I’d like it if we could include some sort of plot and story as we go along so it doesn’t become too repetitive and stale. (Pairings listed below)

Specifically, I’m looking for someone who would like to explore a dom/sub dynamic, which may include a master/slave relationship or anything of the sort. So you see, I’m not looking for the typical vanilla pairing. I’m seeking something a little more dynamic, complex and adventurous.

Someone who is okay with playing a dom against my female sub. I’m into both m/f and f/f, however take note that the kink list and plots below are written for m/f relationships simply because that is the pairing I get asked to do most frequently. They can all be changed to fit a f/f relationship though.

Someone who is okay with OOC chatting. I’d like to create a bond with someone, and I don’t want our only interactions to be only when we’ve posted. It makes me feel less connected to the RP and I’m more likely to get detached over time. We can talk about our everyday lives, our characters, possible future plots, share some music, etc!

Someone who actually gets invested in his own character and gives him life: a (realistic) faceclaim, some backstory, hobbies, dislikes, etc.

What are you expecting from your partner?

I am expecting you to be able to write several paragraphs. Sometimes my posts tend to go up even to 1000 words, so be prepared for that. I’m not saying you have to write 1000 words per post, but writing more than one paragraph would be ideal.

Third person only.

I am expecting you to be upfront about what your likes, preferences, and what you’d like to get out of from this RP. Saying ‘whatever works’ for every question I ask makes people seem like are an extremely passive person, which is not what I’m looking for. I’m looking for someone passionate about writing and who wants to collaborate with me by making his own contribution and being honest.

I’d like a partner who is active, and I want to stress this because I don’t want people messaging me when they cannot post at least once every day or two. More is appreciated, but I get life can get busy with work and all. That being said, I don’t want to wait for five days or more for a reply. It’s not that I’m not tolerant, but I will quickly grow uninterested in a RP (especially an erp) when we don’t have a constant flow of replies.

Characters that I love playing against: older men (40s-50s), beards are a big bonus, big rough guys who deep down have a gentle heart, characters with tragic pasts and seeing their life still being affected by it, bad habits/addictions, unhealthy relationships and behaviour, angst and anger issues, etc.

What should your partner expect from you?

Most of my work done is through my laptop, thus I am fairly active and am always up for chatting. Apart from that, you should expect 1 - 3 posts everyday from me.

Despite this being a NSFW rp, my characters are not going to have the physical appearance of a porn star or anything like that (i.e., gigantic boobs, perfectly curvy body, huge ass, etc). They are going to be realistic, is what I’m trying to say.

I put a lot of effort when creating a new character, including finding them a faceclaim. I use realistic faceclaims, sometimes realistic dawings, as long as they are not anime/cartoon.

My characters are: Usually young (18-25), initially soft and timid but will definitely get back at you if you piss them off, start off as shy and inexperienced but eventually grow confident, will tease a lot (public or not), bratty, can be impulsive and can get themselves into trouble, need attention, etc.

What are some possible pairings we could use?

Italic text is the role I’d prefer to play. You are welcome to mix and match these pairings, as well as bring forward suggestions if none of them interest you.

Rich businessman/Bought slave

Your character grew up in a rich household. After both of his parents died (or moved someplace else), he took charge of the house and was given authority over one or several of his father’s businesses in order to follow in his footsteps. His large house started to grow lonely, save for the servants and maids that took care of everything, but he needed something more. Somehow he finds out about women of all ages being auctioned as slaves in an underground place, and after some hesitance, he decides to go. Surely enough, his attention gets caught by a fairly young one, the main attraction of the night indeed, and he instantly knew that he had to get her.

New prostitute/Regular client OR New prostitute/boss

My character is a newly recruited prostitute in one of the city’s most famous brothels, who joined as a last resort kind of thing. Could be because of family issues, or she couldn’t keep up with paying for her bills, perhaps she was involved with some certain things that made her get kicked out by the landlord of the place she had been staying at. Either way, she is only there because her situation got desperate. Upon arrival she is given a room to stay at, some clothes, explained the rules, and a bit of training to prepare her for that same night. Enter your character, who has been a regular at this place and will be her first client. He pays for her services, but once they go to a private place together, he can easily tell that this is her first time doing this sort of thing. How this continues is up to you and pretty open, but the main idea is that they end up growing fond of each other and wanting to meet again.

Alternatively, we could do a similar plot, but instead it would be with her boss and the owner of the brothel.

Your idea.

I’m open to hearing whatever ideas or plots you’d like us to play. Perhaps you have been craving a specific pairing, or you have a plot that you started with someone else but got ditched. I’m here to listen!

Other pairings we could try:

Stalker/Obsession

Teacher/Student

Doctor or Psychiatrist/Patient

Kidnapper/Kidnapped

Greek mythology pairing (I’m not too familiar with these except for Persephone/Hades, so feel free to bring your own if you’re interested in this)

*I’m also into supernatural creatures (werewolves, vampires, witches, etc) and it’s definitely something we could incorporate into our plots.

What are you into when it comes to NSFW, and likewise what are your limits?

My kinks include: Dd/lg, orgasm control, light bondage, collars and leashes, oral, gagging, roughness, spanking, bdsm, breath control/choking, light petplay, clothed sex, outdoor/semi public spots, dub con, humiliation, dirty talk, name calling, body worship, masturbation, pain play, being marked (bruises, hickeys, etc), handcuffs, controlling and possessive behaviour, and probably some more that I can’t think of on the spot.

My limits are: Scat, vore, watersports, feet, unrealistic body proportions/sizes, excessive cum, basically anything unrealistic. If you’re unsure about something, ask.

I’m interested, where can we contact you?

Happy to hear that! Shoot me an email at [email protected], and we can see where this goes. If we’re compatible and decide to RP together, I will give you my discord.

Make sure that upon contacting me you tell me a little bit about yourself, some suggestions/ideas, what you’re looking for, etc.

#oc rp #multiple paragraph #long term #submission

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thehangmansclub · 6 years ago

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Have you played all of Nadia's endings? I've played Nadia's upright ending (and I loved it) I'm considering if I should play her downright too? Is it good? I've heard it contains quite some triggers, anything you know about that?

Yes, I have played all of the endings. Nadia’s reversed is… Intense to say the least. I liked it, thought it was very interesting. But I can definitely see how some things may be unsettling or triggering. I don’t want to spoil it for you, but you can expect some acts of cruelty, character death, mild gore, and relationship dynamic that could be seen as unhealthy and triggering for people who have been in mentally abusive relationships. If you want to know more, I will elaborate under the cut, but be warned - it will contain some serious spoilers.

Cruelty - Nadia in the reversed ending is quite cruel and she shows that she doesn’t trust anyone and holds little to no respect or positive feelings towards her familyDeath - Lucio dies in Nadia’s reversed ending, like in other reversed endings. What’s really unsettling about this one is that he’s actually killed by Nadia.Betraying MC - in the first book of the reversed ending, you are led to believe that Nadia will trade the MC for a deal with the Devil. I know it was quite shocking to many people. Although it is a trick, the feeling of being sold out can be strongAnother death + gore - The Devil Arcana is killed by Nadia in a quite gruesome way - by ripping his heart out with her bare hands. Then, she “absorbs” Devil’s power and takes his place as an Arcana by making the MC push the heart into Nadia’s chest.Master/slave relationship dynamic - Nadia is a dom in the upright ending too, but you can feel that she actually respects MC. In the reversed ending you feel that the MC is sort of a “mindless servant” to Nadia and that she takes advantage of MC’s powers to obtain her goals. While it is consensual, it could be triggering for people who were in abusive relationships. Owner/pet relationship dynamic - Nadia also treats MC in a way that suggests seeing MC as her pet. The perfect example of that is that she gifts MC a collar. Devious intentions - it is hinted, that she cares very little about those who were left in the “real world” (Asra, Julian, etc) and that she has some sort of a devious plan that would let her come to the real world and shape it to her liking. All pretty ominous.

All things considered, I still really liked the ending. It had good writing and was a perfect display of how feeding Nadia’s paranoia about her family and the feeling that she can only trust herself to get things done can radicalize a person and twist the way they see the world. Play at your own risk

#The Arcana Game #upright / reversed #Nadia Satrinava #Nadia reversed #reversed ending #Arcana reversed ending #Nadia reversed ending #Nadia route #upright/reversed

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lyricpoets · 5 years ago

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Single and Loving It? Wallada bt. al-Mustakfi, Lizzo, and the Breakup Blast

The first line of Lizzo’s chart-topping ode to making better choices, “Truth Hurts,” can be taken a few ways. “Why men great ‘til they gotta be great?” could relate to having the boldness to, as a subsequent line suggests, tell women the truth about their feelings in relationships rather than cowering behind text messages and vagaries. It could also mean that men are great until they get ideas of grandeur in their heads, and want to find grass they perceive to be greener. In either case, with this one line Lizzo puts all would-be lovers on blast for their fickle natures. By contrast, the artist presents herself as an assertive, emotionally in-touch, and self-assured catch, after all, as she says, “you coulda had a bad bitch.” In framing her iconic breakup song in this way, Lizzo follows a trend of styling a song about lost love as one of found singleness, which brings a woman freedom and confidence, rather than the wallowing and whiny, self-blaming breakup ballads of crooners past and present—think Beyoncé’s “Irreplaceable” vs. Beyoncé’s “Love Drought.” Instead of a breakup ballad, I prefer to call pieces like Lizzo’s a breakup blast—one last callout to call attention to the fine, fine woman that some idiot has given up. It’s an exuberant “fuck you” along the lines of elaborate job resignations or, if you’re a boring academic type who gets thrills from strongly worded letters, “quitlit.” And, as it turns out, this trend has a long history.

I’ve discussed women’s poetry in Classical Arabic on this blog before, and in particular, the fact that women in the pre- and early Islamic periods were often expected to compose only within certain, highly ritualized genres such as the rithā’, or mourning verse. Such poems have been looked at by scholars as instigating male action: women would mourn the fallen and call for vengeance against their killers, which men would then go exact. Even works not on this pattern, such as women’s war poetry, at times fall into this trope of the feminine voice as a catalyst for male movement, as with Hind bt. ‘Utbah’s famed poem about the women of the Ṭāriq tribe refusing their lovers’ embraces unless they succeed in battle—a sort of reverse-Lysistrata. Love poetry composed by women, meanwhile, is relatively sparse in the early Islamic period except in the most rarefied halls of high society, with courtesans composing amorous poems for their patrons that, once again, would have instigated male ardor and—ideally—lavish generosity. The call-and-response dynamic of women’s verse tailored to evoke men’s reactions is not merely an invention modern Orientalist or misogynist interpretations that want to view Arabic-speaking women of the past as submissive or impotent (though it surely has been abused to reach such conclusions). Rather, they are products of social hierarchies and modes of female exchange that flourished in order to navigate the power structures innate to their realities. Ritual mourning, pre-battle poetry exchanges, and mixed-gender courtly salons were all commonplace institutions with well-known rules, and as such they provided occasions for the relatively public communication of carefully constructed messages between differently gendered subjects.

A particularly exceptional figure to arise was Wallāda bt. al-Mustakfī, a Spanish Umayyad royal born at the end of the 10th/beginning of the 11th century. Not only did Wallāda compose poems about her lovers—and in particular her on-and-off-again flame, the famed poet Ibn Zaydūn—but she also often wrote not with the aim of impelling a male response but of preventing one. That’s right, Wallāda was a master of breakup verse, or, more appropriately, the breakup blast. Some of her most sparkling verses are, in effect, cease and desist orders issued to Ibn Zaydūn because he has slighted her in some way, or simply because she’s bored with him. It seems only fitting to pair Wallāda with Lizzo, not least because of the ongoing success both have enjoyed. In fact, much of what is commonly known about Wallāda is blown up to larger-than-life proportions—she has become a feminist figure of some renown, known as an irreverent Muslim Spanish princess who, according to some accounts, would walk around scantily clad before all the courtiers on a lark. However, it is essential to keep in mind that most of these impressions are derived from either her own poems or Ibn Zaydūn��s verses about her, which are often filtered through an amorous and emboldened male lens which may feature no small fraction of exaggerated boast or bathos, as when he exclaims “If my night grows long without you, how I’ll complain over having cut short a night with you!” Muslim biographers offer some facts about Wallāda in accounts of her life, but their reports are at times stitched together with connective tissue used to make her poetry fit a continuous narrative of her relationship with Ibn Zaydūn. In other words, there is a lot of room for imaginary thinking even in the medieval sources, to say nothing of modern feminist readings. So, to give Wallāda her proper due, let’s start with what we can know about her and her context before diving in to her works.

Wallāda bt. al-Mustakfī

^N.B. this is an Orientalist-as-shit painting by Frank Bernard Dicksee and we. have. no. clue. if our girl looked like this. But good Lord, those textiles! That freaking leopard skin in the background!

Before we proceed, it’s worth noting that one of the reasons that the annals of history have preserved so much of Wallāda was the remarkable fact of her elite social station: as a woman of noble birth, her words were inevitably valued as more precious, as well as refined and shaped by the education to which she had access. Often, collections of woman poets from the medieval period are peopled with a figure analogous to Wallāda in access to court culture, but far removed from her in degree of freedom, namely, the slave concubines of the upper-crust. These “singing slave girls,” or qiyān, occasionally attained great heights of renown for their witty repartee and their amorous effects on the people who owned them. Long before these women became courtesans, they were given training in arts and language. Kristina Richardson notes that qiyān were “typically purchased as children,” and the surest way to secure their position in the court was not through their literary practice, but rather through bearing children to their owners—their issue was born free, ensured that their mother would not be sold into another family, and guaranteed her eventual manumission once her owner expired. In his recent book, Slavery & Islam, Jonathan Brown uses the case of the caliphal consort ‘Arīb—poet, musician, and much lauded romantic interest of a variety of ‘Abbasid potentates—to illustrate that there were scenarios of elite slavery in the Islamic world that afforded one great visibility and admiration. Though Brown acknowledges that these women led “challenging lives,” he adds that the most successful among them were “protagonists in the epics spun around them,” and earned commemoration in the works of other elite, free male litterateurs.

All of this is argued by way of perturbing what Brown imagines his readers think of when they think of “slavery”—an unfree and permanent social underclass without freedom of movement or the forms of social and material access that these courtesans seem to have had in abundance—but it is worth noting that elite slave-concubinage is hardly an institution unique to Islamic societies. Moreover, it was hardly an enviable position in comparison to that of Wallāda, who was simultaneously plugged into courtly life and insulated from some of its most dangerous intrigues by dint of her position as a daughter of the caliph Muḥammad III. In other words, Wallāda was sitting pretty by comparison. Where court concubines were subordinated to both caliphs and their brides, Wallāda could enjoy the eventual prospect of wedding someone of her station, not being groomed as a proprietary mark of her lover’s prestige. Though marriage was often articulated as ownership in Islamic law (with a wife, like a slave, being milk al-yamīn), Wallāda’s poetry, in which she repeatedly brags of her free choice of suitor, shows that this dynamic was not absolute. In her writings on trysts with Ibn Zaydūn, it’s clear she does not feel she owes him anything--sex, children, emotional consistency...

Most importantly, Wallāda’s poetic utterances are enshrined not because she rose through the ranks and plotted carefully to bend the ears of those around her, but because she was already even from birth a prominent enough figure that her silver tongue was well-placed to be exercised and noticed. Unlike with ‘Arīb—who once fled an owner that she could not tolerate and, when about to be beaten for doing so, supposedly screamed “I am ‘Arib, and if I am owned, then he must sell me. If I am free, he shall have no way with me.”—when Wallāda laments that love is her enslaver, saying, “the nights march on without me seeing separation’s end/nor any emancipator from desire’s bondage,” she is speaking purely from metaphor. Moreover, when she rages against Ibn Zaydūn for havinga fling with one of Wallāda’s own maids—herself a slave woman ensconced in an elite household—she could still vaunt her class over her competitor by referring to the woman as her property (jāriyatī, “my servant”) and saying “You’ve left a fruiting branch in all its beauty/And inclined toward a barren branch,” with fruitfulness suggesting Wallāda’s wealth and breeding.

^For more on ‘Arīb, and for sheer delight, READ THIS. DO IT.

Even by the standards of her time, both literary and socio-cultural, Wallāda seems to have taken more liberties in her relationship with Ibn Zaydūn than was conventional: she names him openly in her poems, mocks his body, and airs his sexual proclivities. Wallāda was to be one of the last of her line to enjoy quite this degree of leniency and luxury, as the caliphate of the Spanish Umayyads was to end during her lifetime—when Wallāda was nearly 30 years old, civil war fractured al-Andalus into a series of ta’ifa states run by local nobilities, and Umayyad sovereignty came to an end.

^Umayyad sovereignty be like...

Wallāda’s poetic works, while ostensibly controversial, are represented in the biography of her found in al-Suyūṭī’s work Nuzhat al-Julasā’ fī Ash’ār al-Nisā’ simply as striking; she is said to be, “unique to her age, known in her era, an embellishment to assemblies and a grace to conversations.” Despite her supposed love of risqué outfits, including one garment with which the text opens—a tunic embroidered with her lines (with some translator liberty), “I am well-suited to finer things, and as I walk I sway/ I offer my cheek to a lover, and kiss their cravings away!” –al-Suyūṭī is sure to quickly follow by telling us of her “solicitousness and integrity.” With this in mind, here are some of Wallāda’s choicer lines in which she’s breaking it off in her tempestuous fashion with Ibn Zaydūn:

Ibn Zaydūn has an anus that loves trouser staffs, Were it to spy a penis in a palm tree, It would become a bird [ṭayr abābīl] and flock to it!

And:

O, is there any way forward for us after this parting?

Lovers all around have long bewailed their fates.

Even in our winter visits, I remained inflamed, standing over passion’s embers. How, though I seemed to linger this way a while, Did the moment I feared so quickly come to pass? The nights march on without me seeing separation’s end, Nor any emancipator from desire’s bondage. God pours forth on the land you have departed Endless torrents of rain, rushing and flowing.

And, on the pain of loving him:

Wait until the shadows conceal our visit, For surely the night is good for secret trysts From you, I’ve experienced [such torment], If the sun felt this way, It would not shine The moon would not rise, And the stars would not traverse the skies.

And just for fun, on a dude named al-Asbaḥī who she clearly didn’t like much:

O Asbaḥī, rejoice, for how many a luxury has God, enthroned, bestowed you? From your own son’s asshole you’ve gotten that which Cannot be acquired from the pussy of Būrān, al-Ḥasan’s daughter!

Between the first and second of these two short poems, we essentially see the two different sides of the breakup song dichotomy. In the second poem, we get the weepy (or, per Wallāda, torrential) emotional vulnerability of a woman writing her way through a breakup with a ballad—a studied melodrama featuring all the staples (“how did this happen?” “I kept loving you though you’d grown cold,” and “I still love you, ouch, it hurts”). In the first poem, we get a breakup blast—a heavy dose of mockery, a callout by name, and a heaping side-dish of “you’re not my type anyway,” colored deeply by the taboo of male bottoming. And, even when she’s in her more emotionally volatile state, Wallāda still plays the role of exhibitionist, repackaging what she herself acknowledges as the well-trod terrain of lovers’ complaints (fa-yashkū kull ṣabb bi-mā laqī), but imbuing it with her own style. In her poem about the pain of actually *being* in love, she stages her feelings on a cosmic plane.This poem was supposedly written, according to her biography, after she had been long rejecting Ibn Zaydūn’s visits and had decided to let him back into her bed. Even when Wallāda is in a relationship, it’s her emotions alone that reach beyond the stratosphere. If there’s way in which Wallāda and Lizzo are especially kindred, it’s this interest in the reversal and the subversion that can take a love song or a breakup ballad and place the woman at the center in intriguing ways, rather than focusing on her beloved.

Lizzo

Watch the video first, folks.

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Before she got nominated for, like, 1 billion Grammys, Lizzo was Melissa Viviane Jefferson. Born in Detroit, MI, Lizzo grew up across a few different cities in the U.S. (Detroit, Huston, Minneapolis, and most recently, L.A.), and long knew she wanted a career in music. In college, she studied classical flute, and she often finds ways to incorporate that into her songs, live performances, and even into an iconic scene set in the backstage area of a strip club in the film “Hustlers.” Unlike Wallāda, who is an elite insider par excellence, Lizzo comes to the world of mainstream hip-hop from the outside: she’s not from money, she’s not from the industry, and her hobbies haven’t exactly been conventionally chic and on-trend, from her long commitment to marching band flute, anime, and writing fantasy stories, to her admission in her soulful EP track, “Coconut Oil,” “I remember back, back in school when I wasn’t cool/shit I still ain’t cool, but you better make some room for me.” Perhaps most prominently, she’s a plus-sized woman who loves to sing upbeat "bops” about loving yourself as you are. Lizzo has said before in interviews that she learned to love herself and her size a while back and that it wasn’t until body positivity went mainstream and the discourse caught up to her that her music really took off and started resonating with people. One New York Times article characterizes her music as “pure gospel,” and it does often feel like Lizzo is part preacher. She closed out her Tiny Desk Concert on NPR by saying, “I just want everyone to remember, if you can love me you can love yourself […] if you can love my big black ass at this tiny, tiny desk, you can love yourself. Can I get one more hallelujah?!” But where gospel tends to be characterized by reveling in certainty—in salvation, in God, in truth—there are many moments in her breakup songs where Lizzo revels in ambivalence and reversal. Take her hit “Jerome,” which made waves with her performance at the AMA’s, the song is structured as a crooning ballad, the sort of melancholy, juicy sound you might associate with Whitney Houson’s “I Will Always Love You,” or, more recently, Adele’s “Someone Like You,” yet the refrain goes “Jerome, take your ass home/ and come back when you’re grown.” Despite appearances, it’s not a meandering ode to lost or unrequited love so much as a wakeup call about a man who isn’t complicated or emotionally torn or broken, just disappointing. Another brilliant reversal comes in the music video for her most famous breakup blast, the chart-topping “Truth Hurts,” the first line of which (“I just took a DNA test, turns out, I’m 100% that bitch”) has resulted in some controversy over possible plagiarism, as well as an endless stream of cringe-worthy riffs, including Pete Buttigieg’s (please-clap-style) attempt at relatability here:

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In the video (didn’t watch it yet? scroll up, come on now), Lizzo appears bedecked in a frilly wedding dress and flanked by bridesmaids clad in robin’s egg blue, a shirtless officiant in a bedazzled hat, a groom’s party, and—conspicuously—no groom. At the line “You tried to break my heart, well that breaks my heart, that you thought you ever had him but you ain’t from the start,” another woman in the assembled crowd stands up and begins voicing the words herself, as the verse’s tension builds (“hey I’m glad you’re back with your bitch, I mean who would wanna hide this…”) the camera moves between the two women—Lizzo and the guest—culminating with them both wagging their fingers at each other and saying the line “I will never ever ever ever ever be your side chick!” Where the term “side chick” seems to unambiguously label who is at the margins of a relationship, this clever camerawork shows that when two women are both being played in a relationship, each thinks of the other as the expendable, extraneous mistress.

This critique of the “side chick” concept and the intra-female competition it signifies it something Lizzo actively contests throughout the song by emphasizing bonds of female friendship instead; in the aftermath of her breakup, her friend takes her to the salon to wash the relationship away. After all, competition over a less-than-worthy guy not only draws fire away from failings of the man (who breaks up via text in the song for crying out loud!), but also, to quote Emily Gordon, often is simply a way for women to contend with the idea of their own selfhood by pitting ourselves against a “fun-house mirror that reflects an inaccurate version of who we are.” Wallāda is perhaps finding one such fun-house mirror in her servant with whom Ibn Zaydūn has a dalliance, as mentioned above. The full poem compares Wallāda as the brilliant, close-by full moon with the servant as remote, dim Jupiter even as it acknowledges the woman’s enchanting effect on her lover:

If you only shared the passion between us,

You wouldn’t have been charmed by my handmaid

You’ve left a fruiting branch in all its beauty

And inclined toward a barren branch

Surely you’ve come to know that I am the

Full-moon of the sky, but with Jupiter,

You’ve sparked distress in me.

Meanwhile, Lizzo shows that she already has enough self-assurance and awareness to realize that she’s “100% that bitch,” even when she’s “crying crazy” in a spell of heartache, and moreover that she would rather be the player than be played. References to other prospects are strewn throughout the song, from “something more exciting,” to a “new man on the Minnesota Vikings,” to other guys “in my DMs.” Lizzo indicates that these relationships are transient, though, with the line “I put the sing in single, ain’t worried ‘bout a ring on my finger,” showing us that the most important thing after a breakup is not learning how to forgive, to support other women and recognize their pain, or even to love again in the conventional, coupled-off sense. Rather, the greatest achievement is to learn how to love and have a sustaining relationship with yourself.

With Wallāda, self-love trickles in here and there throughout her oeuvre, but it is often articulated as a function of her status (she is high-born, beautiful, etc.) and the power and allure this enables her to exert over men. Though the breakup blast may traverse times and regions, its open celebration of single womanhood—and especially single womanhood that isn’t depicted as something fleeting, an in-betweenness rather than an identity—is far less universal and historically commonplace. Indeed, it’s still something many are uncomfortable with today, though we may be on the precipice of a change in the United States. As Rebecca Traister writes in her book All the Single Ladies: Unmarried Women and the Rise of an Independent Nation, “Many women, unmarried into their thirties, living in geographic, religious, and socio-economic corners of the country where early marriage remains a norm, as well as many women who remain single less by choice than by circumstance, into their forties, fifties, and sixties, do not feel as though they are living in a new, singles-dominated world. They feel ostracized, pressured: they are challenged by family and peers. However, statistically, across the country, these women are not alone. Their numbers are growing by the year.” Lizzo, at 31, continues to live her self-loving, single truth (and has explained that she doesn’t seek relationships out of need, but rather out of want, because she’s still at base a “single-minded” individual)—a truth that is increasingly applicable for many of her listeners. Wallāda, who never wed, would perhaps find this a welcome shift.

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mindareadsoots · 7 years ago

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Why it was important that Rose DIDN’T own Pearl.

(I promise that there will be a positive note at the end of all this, but there’s going to be a lot of tearing down of Rose, Pearl, and Rosepearl before we get there.)

From the beginning, Pearl’s relationship with Rose was always a little troubling. Even before we learned that pearls were designed to be a slave race, and LONG before we learned Rose’s true identity as a Diamond, it was clear that there was a heavy imbalance in their relationship. The first time the show seriously examined the pairing was Rose’s Scabbard, in which Pearl learned to her shock and dismay that Rose had not been as open with her as she had believed. Not only was it heartbreaking to watch Pearl go through that experience, it was also one of the earliest signs that Rose was not the perfect figure of love and goodness that she seemed to be at first glance.

And while I do believe that Rose legitimately loved Pearl - just listen to the way she says Pearl’s name in A Single Pale Rose - it’s clear that she didn’t love her exclusively. There were more lovers in her life than just Greg. As we saw in Your Mother and Mine, she had a string of affairs with humanity dating back 6000 years. Pearl however did have romantic feelings exclusively for Rose, and that dynamic was always going to be a stressor on their relationship.

The extent of that power imbalance was significantly amplified when we learned that pearls aren’t just servants on Homeworld, they are slaves. They are things to be owned. That raised a lot of REALLY troubling questions about Pearl, her relationship to Rose, and indeed how much free will she had for herself up until the moment Steven was born. Was Pearl really a rebel, or did she just follow her master? Were her feelings for Rose even real, or just something she’d been programmed to have?

Initially, I - and I think most people - dismissed the idea that Rose had been Pearl’s owner before they rebelled. Not only was the idea nearly unthinkable, but the much more compelling theory was that Pearl belonged to one of the Diamonds instead.

Oh the irony.

So for as much as Rose’s absence was clearly painful for Pearl, it was reasonable to believe that her presence in Pearl’s life had been a net positive. Pearl’s devotion to Rose may have been colored by her nature as a Pearl, but it was still HER choice to make. For all of it’s flaws, her love for Rose was it’s own act of rebellion, a sign that Pearl truly - as she defiantly exclaimed to both Bismuth and Peridot - belonged to nobody.

...

So... yeah. Here we are now.

I really can’t undersell just how profoundly fucked up it was to see Pink Diamond - the woman Pearl loved and devoted her entire life to - sentence her to silence. Pearl has been struggling against her inability to talk about Pink Diamond for the past two seasons of the show, and possibly longer than that. It has been the primary obstacle standing between her and Steven. And it has been a perverse declaration that no matter how much Pearl grew or rebelled, some part of her will always be the same pearl Homeworld created her to be.

And that is the ultimate reason why this moment is so sickening. It’s not bad because it makes Rose and Pearl’s relationship more complicated. It’s bad because it proves that Pearl’s detractors were right.

Jasper was right when she dismissed her as “a lost defective pearl.”

Peridot was right to ask who Pearl belonged to. It was a relevant question about how she ended up on earth.

The scene is trying to harken back to an old trope where the noblewoman issues one final command before forsaking her right to rule and running off to live happily with their lover of low birth. Such a scene is inherently an act of trust on the part of the noblewoman because the recipient of the order will soon have no reason to obey it. The unspoken understanding is that it is for love of the woman and not her title that such an order will be followed. But that doesn’t work here because Pearl literally and physically had not choice but to obey. There is no trust there. If Pink Diamond had TRUSTED Pearl with her secret, then she would have asked for its safekeeping, not ordered it with an unbreakable command.

Rose hurting Pearl is nothing new (see again Rose’s Scabbard) but previous examples had always been inadvertent - failures to communicate or difficult decisions made. This is the first time we’ve seen Rose directly inflict such a terrible wound upon Pearl. If one wanted to feel charitable (I don’t) one could say that Pink Diamond simply didn’t anticipate that this command would be a source of conflict for Pearl but that doesn’t make it better. The fact that Pink Diamond said “please” does not make it better. The fact that she thought this was an okay thing to do to someone she loved AT ALL is still a massively hard pill to swallow. There’s a reason why all of the fanart of Pearl struggling with her silence depicts it as coming from an inherently villainous source. It’s the clearest demonstration to date that despite all of Rose’s high minded ideals and the lengths she went to to keep the earth safe from Homeworld, she suffered from a critical lack of basic empathy that allowed her to make some truly ghastly decisions.

Anyway, I promised some positivity and here it is: we still don’t know the whole story.

Joe Johnston has been answering questions about this moment on tumblr since I’m far from the only one who was disturbed by this scene.

We still don’t know how Pink Diamond and Pearl’s feelings for each other came to develop. My personal hope, which has always been my preferred headcanon, is that Pearl was the first one to rebel against homeworld, and Pink Diamond followed her. Such a backstory would give Pearl back some initiative in their relationship.

Joe’s answers also confirm that Pearl really did belong to Pink Diamond which... seems like something that shouldn’t have been confirmed this early. It was plausible that not everything was what it seemed in that palanquin and Pearl was just somebody Pink Diamond had come to admire rather than her personal servant. I still find it suspicious that Pearl’s gem and general appearance point towards White Diamond instead of Pink. That addendum alone - allowing Pearl and Pink Diamond to meet as anything other than master and slave - would go a long way towards alleviating concerns about what Pearl got herself into when she fell in love with Pink Diamond.

And as for present day, since Pink Diamond was the one who had control over Pearl, that raises the possibility that Steven is able to cancel her orders, thus allowing Pearl to finally be well and truly free.

There are still paths open for Pearl to have a brighter future. Here’s hoping we get to see them.

#pink diamond #rose quartz #pearl #rosepearl #steven universe #minda watches steven universe #minda reads #in between #asks

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obsidianarchives · 6 years ago

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Black American Wizard Origins

At the time of the Transatlantic slave trade, many magical African people were shipped as goods to what is now known as the United States. Due to the distressing nature of the trip, the rampant death, starvation, beatings, and separation of tribes and families, many did not make it to shore. However, the surviving community was able to pass down stories, ideas, and lessons in conjuring.

On most plantations, there was said to be two to four conjurers. These brave men and women took it upon themselves to make sure the traditions in magic were passed along. This was very hard to do considering most slave owners did everything in their power to make sure that the enslaved remained ignorant. The extent to which conjuring, also known as hoodoo, could be practiced varied by region and the temperament of the slave owner.

Like their ancestors, most African descended wizards received dream messengers as guides linking them to their magical ability. Upon waking from the dream, most wizards found an inscribed stone near their bed. The stone was usually brought to the conjurer and secret lessons would begin from that point.

Unfortunately, the history and knowledge of dream messengers were largely forgotten for many generations. Black wizards with no knowledge of this phenomenon have been ignoring these dreams for decades. The start of the Civil War brought about a change in group dynamics. Former slaves saw that there was life outside of their plantation homes. Promises of freedom whether gaining it by joining the military or traveling to new, often northern states dispersed familial groups and the knowledge passed down within them. It was only after the discovery of a formerly unknown wizard’s journal from 1921 that dream messaging has become popular knowledge again. The journal belonged to Ezekiel Montgomery, a freedman, who had spent a portion of his adulthood interviewing older relatives of their lives before freedom.

As we moved into the 20th and 21st century, Dream Messengers have been far less common. The African American wizarding organization, commonly known as N.A.A.A.W. , communicates mostly through the postal service and email. However, many young wizards are beginning to see a rise in dream messengers as this portion of history and culture have been revealed to them.

Plantation Life

The growing population of Black magical folk was largely missed by slave masters, simply because it started so early, in children who were often overlooked on plantations. It wasn’t until they were of a certain age that they were even considered “useful” by their owners. While some were relegated to servants in the master’s home or companions for the master’s children, most were left to be taken care of by “aunts” or “grannies”, enslaved elders that were no longer able to do hard labor. This allowed those that were being taught by conjurers to have moments alone to practice and refine their magical skills.

The course of study for most children has not changed very much over the last 200 plus years.

Originally, conjurers taught the children how to focus their magical abilities resulting in wandless magic (a useful skill as most Black children and adults often weren’t allowed much in the area of possessions), elixir/ balm making, star charting, and musical language. There was apt opportunity to practice all of these things without being caught. Many children assisted in the healing process of those around them, providing the others with elixirs to end and ward off sickness and balms to heal overworked hands, feet, and bodies that had the unfortunate pleasure of being on the other side of a whip.

Communication between enslaved Blacks became easier as time went on. The diverse group of separated Africans learned English from their kidnappers and masters. This resulted in communal growth and understanding. Much like African Americans today, the enslaved witches and wizards were able to find joy in the direst conditions. Those who showed an aptitude towards language soon discovered an ancestral magic, the language of music. Through song, dance and some instruments, the magical community realized that they were speaking a language that only the other African Americans understood. While their owners saw this as just a bit of song and dance, the enslaved people were actually communicating with the ancestors, delivering messages, and giving each other directions to freedom. “Follow the Drinking Gourd” was a popular song during this time. This magical music language continues to live on and has played a major part in the rise of the current popular music of today across all genres.

Learning to chart the stars was also an essential part of magical education taught to the young wizards. Star charting proved useful in escaping the bondage of slavery. To be able to read the night sky assured that they would be traveling the right way.

Freedom

The journey to freedom, while often dangerous to those in the southern states, was a call that many followed. Black people both magical and No-Maj headed north to freedom. Those that did make it often found pockets of freedmen and women in communities with one another. A numerous amount of people had been manumitted, some had escaped the southern states to join the rebel military, others had paid for their freedom and were working hard to pay for their families as well. Some had been born free or freedom adjacent, serving a few years of indentured servitude. As these communities of freed blacks grew, so did the swell in the population of magical Black people. Acquiring one’s own freedom led countless others to work for years to help secure freedom for those still in bondage.

To be a person of magical ability didn’t necessarily make freedom easier to acquire. Like, every other Black American, these wizards were known by one thing, the sense of otherness that comes with the color of their skin. The relationship between magical and No-Maj Black folks was and is still a fragile ecosystem. Interactions between No-Maj and wizards depend largely on the families non-magical Black people are raised in. Devout Christians have been known to be somewhat hostile toward wizards in the past since witchcraft is frowned upon (there is a growing change in recent years). Others see the practices as something deeply spiritual, a link to their culture and ancestry. Though there are differences in opinions, one thing remains the same, few people, magical or No-Maj are willing to expose each other to the governing white leaders. Protecting each other is what is most important.

Since its inception, N.A.A.A.W. has been at the forefront of Black wizard and No-Maj relations. Their work extends itself to white and Black wizard relationships as well. Bondage and racial attacks that plagued the majority of the beginnings of this nation played a major role in Black wizards keeping their magical abilities from white wizards. Since the end of Civil Rights Movement, Black wizards have slowly begun to reveal themselves and their abilities to white wizarding kind. Both the New York and D.C. chapters of N.A.A.A.W. have become fully active in larger American wizarding politics and encourage the other chapters to integrate into MACUSA.

#Black Wizard History #Magic #NAAAW

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aliapohno · 6 years ago

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character information { kaguya mori } { balmung&mateus }

The Basics

NAME: Kaguya Mori NICKNAME/ALIAS: n/a AGE: 30 RACE: Au Ra (Raen)/Miqo’te (Keeper) mix GENDER: Female SEXUALITY: Bisexual MARITAL STATUS: Single SERVER: Balmung & Mateus

Physical Appearance

HAIR: Long, jet black hair; the longest falls just to the top of her butt, the strands of hair that she wears over her shoulders fall to the curve of her breasts, and she had full bangs that fall below her eyebrows. She pulls back some of her hair into a looped bun.

( HER MATEUS-VERSE has short, wave black hair that falls to her shoulder.)

EYES: A piercing ice blue that always seem to carry a playful calm to them.

HEIGHT: 5 fulm 7 ilms

BUILD: Tall and slender, Kaguya surpasses the normal height of Auri women; she has little muscle definition, a rather ample bosom, and curves for days.

DISTINGUISHING MARKS: Her scales - and her horns - are opalescent in appearance, a rare trait that runs in her family. Because of her half-breed heritage, Kaguya has a pair of fluffy, black with red tipped Miqo’te ears. She also has sharper than normal canines; her tail is long, has scales on it, but also has fur -- akin to that of a Chinese or Japanese dragon’s tail.

COMMON ACCESSORIES: A curious looking necklace that she’s always had since she was a child.

Brief History

= Found in the middle of one of Hingashi’s many wooded areas at the age of 5 by slavers

= Sold off to a Hingan merchant, alongside a few others

Was raised and trained on how to cook, clean, and sow

When she turned 10, the merchant fell into heavy debt and she, along with the rest of the staff, were let go

= Was taken in by a friend of the merchant’s, who found Kaguya’s appearance exotic and interesting.

The man’s wife was unable to conceive children, so she raised the little girl as her own.

Taught her how to read, write, sing, dance, and play various instruments (koto, piano, shamisen)

The man’s wife passed away when Kaguya was 16, and he sold her off to another merchant.

= Her third owner - who wanted her to call him master - abused his servants - mentally, physically, and verbally.

He only kept her around because of her heritage, and would verbally degrade her for being a half-breed.

She didn’t take any of his shit, and fought back against him the next four years of her life.

= At 20, she was dragged across the ocean and to Limsa Lominsa, where she was sold off to a brothel because the man was tired of her attitude and thought that she could be broken in better in an environment like that.

= Is currently 30, and is still working at the brothel down by the docks.

Personal

PROFESSION: Former slave; sold to a brothel in Limsa HOBBIES: Dancing, making tea, reading about & studying magics, collecting little trinkets & stuffed animals, sewing LANGUAGE(S): Common, Hingan/Doman || she has a light Hingan accent RESIDENCE: Limsa Lominsa BIRTHPLACE: The Far East ( she assumes ) NAMEDAY: 12th Sun of the 3rd Astral Moon { 5/12 } PATRON DEITY: The Kami { Eorzean standard: Azeyma, the Warden } FEARS: Being told she’s not worth anything, never finding “freedom”, spiders, being alone

Relationships

SPOUSE: None CHILDREN: None PARENTS: Unknown SIBLINGS: Unknown OTHER RELATIVES: Unknown PETS: Momo (Red Panda)

Traits

extroverted / introverted / in between disorganized / organized / in between close minded / open-minded / in between calm / anxious / in between disagreeable / agreeable / in between cautious / reckless / in between patient / impatient / in between outspoken / reserved / in between leader / follower / in between empathetic / unempathetic / in between optimistic / pessimistic / in between traditional / modern / in between hard-working / lazy / in between cultured / un-cultured / in between loyal / disloyal / in between faithful / unfaithful / in between

Additional Information

SMOKING HABIT: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess. DRUGS: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess. ALCOHOL: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess.

RP Hooks

The Far East - Kaguya was (presumably) born in over in Hingashi. from what her first “Owner”/”Master” told her - when she was just a child - she had been sold off by her parents to slavers; thus is the reason why she has little memory of them and her home village.

Former Owner/Master - Kaguya was roughly 5 years old when she was first sold off by slavers to her first owner; she has spent the years - up until she was 20 - as a maid for her owners/masters. She’s gone through a handful so...

Customers - Her previous owner had grown bored of her, took her with him on business over seas, and basically sold her to a brothel in LImsa. Because of her unique looks - an Au Ra with Miqo’te features - Kaguya wound up relatively popular there.

Limsa Lominsa - It’s where she currently lives and resides, leaving the brothel on occasion to wander around Limsa and the surrounding areas.

OOC & What I Am {and Not } Looking For

LOOKING FOR:

Friends || She gets lonely, easily, and likes to spend her free time with people she feels she can trust and be friends with. She’s outgoing, and loves meeting people!

Former Owners || Since she was sold as a slave, I would be more than happy to play with someone who was her former owner/master. The Master/Slave dynamic is fun, especially when there’s varying degrees of such.

Customers || She a ho Men or women are more than welcome, since Kaguya doesn’t discriminate against gender. This also includes trans characters.

Plot || Considering she is, more or less, stuck in Limsa unless a customer pays to take her elsewhere in the world, there’s very little I can do plotwise with her. However, she wants to be free from her cage, and not spend the rest of her life chained down. She wants to learn about the past she doesn’t remember, about herself, and I want to flesh out her entire story since I have it all thought up in my head. { spoiler: HER NECKLACE PLAYS AN IMPORTANT ROLE IN EVERYTHING. }

Future/Possible Love Interests || While I’m don’t do the whole... pre-establishing a romantic relationship thing, especially so given Kaguya’s feelings about herself and relationships - I am always, always up for playing out the slow burn process of seeing how well characters mesh together. IF YOU ARE INTERESTED IN SHIPPING WITH HER please let me know and we can totally see what happens!

NOT LOOKING FOR

ERP/Smut - I’m not interest in writing out the actual details of any sexual encounters Kaguya may find herself in. Also, I’m not interested in it being pointless or without plot; she might be a courtesan, but she isn’t there solely to get someone’s rocks off. I prefer Fade To Black, and writing the aftermath.

[Permanent] Character Death || I have no plans on killing her - or any of my other characters - off permanently so this isn’t on the table, sorry.

OOC

My availability is open at the moment, given I am out of work and looking for a job.

I prefer to roleplay via Discord (message me for it), as I can focus on replies there, but I am not opposed to in-game rp. It’s just a personal preference.

When it comes to roleplay, I have a habit of writing long responses, and go the para-rp route; however, I can adapt to any play style, and match my RP partner relatively easily. I’m just a tl;dr person by nature I’m so sorry.

I’ll write just about anything as long as it isn’t the aforementioned erp/smut, or anything that deals with my characters death; I also won’t write extreme gore, or vore. But I will more than welcome dark themes in roleplay.

Please note that I am a very casual player when it comes to Final Fantasy 14, and that I do not always feel up to roleplaying. My mood fluctuates, and I can go a handful of days without replying ( which is why I prefer Discord for RP ). This does not mean I’m not interested. I AM. I just need to give my brain a break.

#character info #character profile #kaguya mori #the tempted moon #balmung #balmung rp #mateus #mateus rp

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prridot · 4 years ago

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[ID: a twitter thread by XIRAN, Chinese History Educational Memer, @.XiranJayZhao. The tweets read:

decided to do a separate thread for this so here we go: how Song dynasty poet Lu You poem-liveblogged his descent from cat owner to cat slave 800 years ago The year is 1183. Down On His Luck scholar-official Lu You gets a cat because rats keep munching on his books. 1/?

[image: a poem in Chinese, translated to English. “Poem For My Cat 1 by Lu You (1183, age 58) I got a little Kitty with a bag of salt To protect the countless books in my study It’s just a shame my family is poor and my wages low So it has no rug to sleep on or fish to eat”]

the effects are GREAT!! Lu You is delighted!! THIS IS LITERALLY THE TITLE HE GAVE THE POEM I AM NOT MAKING SHIT UP (also feel free to correct my translations because my classical chinese is not that good LOOOL) 2/?

[image: a poem in Chinese, translated to English. “Rats Kept Ruining My Books So I Got a Cat and Within Days the Rats Were Vanquished by Lu You Conscription has left the house empty Only my cat keeps me company It’s so soft to touch and warm to hold in bed So brave and capable that it has ousted the rat nest As valiant as the soldiers slaying enemies on the battlefield I cannot give it much fish to eat, but it does not mind Nor does it waste time catching butterflies among the flowers”

several years later, Lu You gets ANOTHER CAT!! he calls it Snowy!! (probably had white fur then) he loves it so much he suspects it was a child of his reincarnated from a past life 3/?

[image: a poem in Chinese, translated to English. “I Got a Cat From a Nearby Village That I’m Naming ‘Snowy’ by Lu You (1191, age 66) It looks like a tiger and can climb trees It acts as if a horse but can’t pull carts Even though it has vanquished the rat’s nest It has no demand for fish as meals Every so often it gets drunk off catnip Every night it warms the rug It must have been my child in a past life Reincarnated here to keep me company in my old age”

and then cat #3, Pink-Nose!!! it seems that Lu You's cats have fish to eat now, but Pink-Nose seems to be slacking on its mice-eradicating duties...? 4/?

[image: a poem in Chinese, translated to English. “Poem for Pink-Nose by Lu You (1193, age 68) Night after night you used to massacre rats Guarding the grain store so ferociously So why do you now act as if you live within palace walls Eating fish every day and sleeping in my bed?”]

the power dynamics in the Lu household now seem to be experiencing some shifts. who is the master and who is the servant now?? 5/?

[image: a poem in Chinese, translated to English. “Poem for My Cat 3 by Lu You I do not reprimand you for not catching mice I still serve you fish on time Every day I see you sleeping without worry So for what reason do you keep running here and there?”]

it finally hits Lu You, what has happened. he has made a terrible mistake, spoiling his cats so much. they're not working anymore. there is no going back. this is his life now. a life full of rats and birds his cats refuse to kill. 6/?

[image: a poem in Chinese, translated to English. “Some Thoughts by Lu You My cat is sleeping in my bed, not caring how rats are rampaging My books are getting ruined and birds wake me before dawn I cannot believe this was all a ruse to get food from me It is so lazy now that it is warm and safe Impossible to train when it has a full stomach I was so naive and now I’m so stressed out”]

does this mean Lu You hates his cats now? naaah, son, he has accepted his fate and cuddles with them on stormy nights like the full-fledged cat slave he is 7/?

Quote Tweet by @.XiranJayZhao: you think humans have fundamentally changed during the past thousand years?? wrong. here is a very relatable poem written in 1192 by Song dynasty poet Lu You (who was 67 when he wrote this so i need you to imagine that too when you picture the poem)

[image: a poem in Chinese, translated to English. “A Rainstorm on the Fourth Day of Eleventh Month (1) by Lu You (1192) Wind sweeps the wold and rain darkens the village, Rumbles roll off the mountains like ocean waves churning. The furnace is soothing and the rug is warm, Me and my cat are not leaving the house.”]

RELATABLE STRUGGLES AS IM TRYING TO DO THIS THREAD)

[image: a photo of a grey kitten pawing at a laptop screen open to Twitter]

anyway if you noticed there's no Poem For My Cat 2, it's because it's technically this one that I translated for my post yesterday, but I can't quite place its timing in relation to the others

[image: a poem in Chinese, translated to English “Getting a Cat by Lu You I traded a bag of salt for a cat I often watch it playing by my chair Every so often it gets drunk off catnip Every night it hogs my pretty rug It has ousted a nest of mice How could I not give it a feast of fish? I should give it a name now I’ll call it Little Tiger”]

and there's one final poem but i'm so bad at translating it that I gave up loool. just know that Lu You was in a position where he'd be sad and lonely but he wasn't because he had his FAT CAT with him

[image: a poem in Chinese with a work-in-progress translation into English “Sitting Alone At Night [Something about not seeing his friends in a long time and having nowhere to express his political opinions] Listening to the rain, I put on robes as rugged as a monk’s Lighting a lantern, I sit by a hearth Feelings of loneliness do not arise in me When I have my fat cat as a companion”]

Filing this under How People Lived in Ancient China twitter.com/i/events/12917… Hope you enjoyed these 800-year-old cat liveblogs😂 More Chinese history tweets: http://linktr.ee/xiranjayzhao

OH and I gotta add that in modern China, cat owners really are called Cat Slaves 猫奴 or Poop Shoveling Officers 铲屎官 (which implies that the cat is the emperor) 🥴

End description]

[Source]

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haleyehn · 4 years ago

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12 Years a Slave

Chiwetel Ejiofor plays the role of Soloman Northup, a free black man who was captured and enslaved for twelve years, hence the film’s title, 12 Years a Slave. There are multiple examples throughout this film of social class difference based on race, enhancing power dynamics, and how intersectionality can affect the way one’s treated. The plot follows how Solomon is kidnapped into slavery and fights to gain his free man status back. His story is contrasted to characters, Epps, Patsey, and Bass.

Soloman Northup kidnapping location (Britannica).

Soloman’s downfall begins when he is kidnapped and sent to New Orleans to be a slave named Platt. Epps is the second slave owner that Soloman is owned by. He uses his white power to get his slaves to do what he says, or he will beat them. He goes so far to threaten to kill Soloman and brutally whips Patsey to near death. Epps uses his power over one slave, Patsey, to repeatedly rape her and allow his wife to humiliate her often. Patsey, being a female slave, experiences more hardships as a result of her intersectionality than Soloman. Patsey is held to a higher standard because she picks twice as much cotton a day but is sexually abused because she is a woman. While Soloman is safe from sexual abuse, his little power is made to seem smaller in relation to the indentured servant, Bass. Bass, a white man, feels compelled to explain to Ebbs that slavery is unjust and supports his opinion by stating his Christian beliefs. Ebbs strongly disagrees but does not beat Bass because he is not his property, like Soloman is. Bass is allowed the freedom to express his opinion without life threatening repercussions from Ebbs. The cultural differences between these characters are expressed throughout the movie and these are just a few examples.

Soloman and other slaves standing in sugarcane field listening to their master (12 Years a Salve).

This movie shows a segment of Solomon Northup’s life directed by a black man, Steve McQueen. Deborah Willis discusses the way black people are represented differently through the lens of white people and black people in the 20th century. Willis reflects on discovering a photography book created by a black man, “The lighting in the photographs was dramatically dark and realistic...the photographs spoke to me in a manner that I will never forget” (Willis, 4). This rare instance of Deborah Willis seeing her people being represented in good lighting and with accuracy made her more confident. The way a story is told effects how people perceive it. Similarly, 12 Years a Slave is directed by a black man which allows the story to be told in a profoundly empowering way rather than a sad, depressing point of view. Soloman Northup also wrote this story from his point of view as a black man and from 1853-57 he traveled to speak about abolition and his kidnappers were indicted in 1854. However, Soloman’s word could not hold up in court against a white man’s, so while they were guilty Hamilton and Brown were released; emphasizing the white privilege they had (Britannica).

Cole, Rachel. "Solomon Northup | Biography & Facts". Encyclopedia Britannica, 2021, https://www.britannica.com/biography/Solomon-Northup.

McQueen, Steve. 12 Years A Slave. Brad Pitt, 2021.

Willis, Deborah. Picturing Us, 3-26. The New York, 1994.

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scrummasteragiletraining2021 · 4 years ago

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Scrum Master Certification

An excellent Scrum Master has to possess these top rated soft capabilities to work in their own role. The checklist is certainly not comprehensive, please don’t hesitate to add more in the comments.

Communicator - that the key function is communicating and using communicating to accomplish things. The Scrum Master is constantly relieving meetings and forcing a schedule. Without strong communicating skills this really is difficult.

Listener - Scrum Masters should perfect the capacity to listen in par two and one. Not merely do they will have to trace what’s happening from the job and also restrain bounds of job to be performed, but in addition they will ought to listen to impediments.

Persistent - that the Scrum Master is your process Gate Keeper. We are all aware that a lot of people is anti inflammatory change, therefore the Scrum Master’s constant behaviour in getting visitors to collaborate is vital.

Facilitation - an excellent Scrum Master has to have mastered the art of facilitation. It’s unquestionably a critical component within the total success of your self in addition to your own teams. Keeping meetings track, recorded and ensuring outcome calls permanently facilitation.

Accountability - a Scrum Master is fundamentally in charge of its shipping procedure, therefore the individual should be aware of that the dynamics across RACI associated each role. This job makes sure that the others require responsibility and also steps to act that if demanded.

Servant Leader - that the Scrum Master (and some other boss in a agile company ) is really just a slave leader of course and natures this caliber in the others on the team. Providing individuals with all the distance and possibility to emerge as a pioneer is a essential portion of a leaders part from the corporation.

Negotiator - this job will always be getting together with all the item owner and also the team, also has to safeguard the team by carrying on a lot of effort, and additionally shield the item owner out of under-commitment from the Sprint. This takes great discussion skill.

Knows just how to take care of battle - in that role there’ll be times if you’re required to step in the heat of this minute and get return with their mature countries. Recognizing not to take to neutralize the specific problem is essential.

#bvop #scrum

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blackresearchcentral · 7 years ago

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Those ‘Black Confederates’ We Hear About

Black People in the American Civil War

by Admin Om

Black men were not officially allowed to serve as soldiers for the 'Confederate States of America' until very late in the Civil War, specifically through a bill passed by the Confederate Congress on March 13, 1865. Even then, freedom was not guaranteed to those who did fight on the Confederate side as it had been for the nearly 200,000 who became soldiers in the Union army.

Prior to this, blacks in the 'Confederacy' served in other roles such as hard laborers, camp servants, or body servants (slaves who were often brought into battle by those who claimed their ownership). Until January 1, 1863 when President Abraham Lincoln declared in the Emancipation Proclamation that "[free and newly freed] persons of suitable condition, will be received into the armed service of the United States," blacks on the Union side also served in those roles outside of battle.

These are the stories of a few of the black men who served with the Confederate army...

Members of the 57th Georgia Infantry, Company H - From Left To Right: First Lieutenant Archibald C. McKinley, Captain John Richard Bonner, Scott (enslaved by McKinley), and Second Lieutenant William S. Stetson

Scott

Scott was 37 years old when his 17-year-old slave master joined the army to defend the cause of the Confederacy. He left his wife and children behind. During the war, Scott would build his master's fires, wash his master's clothes, and serve him food (he was a cook).

When Scott heard false reports of his master's death, he cried bitterly as he went searching for his master. Union soldiers, seeing him, laughed and taunted him along the way.

Scott stayed by his master's side from the time of enlistment to the end of the war. Upon hearing news of his beloved servant's death in battle, his master wrote of Scott: "Poor fellow, he was one of the few niggers who was a friend of the whites." After the war, Scott received a house and 20 acres of land from his master's father. Scott's former slave master recorded that for the rest of Scott's life, "he was cultivating the land industriously."

You can view the company roster here.

Marlboro Jones, enslaved by Confederate captain Randal F. Jones of the 7th Georgia Cavalry

Marlboro[ugh]

Marlboro Jones was a 'manservant' of a Confederate captain. In June 1864, the captain was mortally wounded and his slave brought him back home.

Silas Chandler (right), enslaved by Confederate sergeant A.M. Chandler (left) of the 44th Mississippi Infantry Regiment, Company F

Silas

Silas knew nothing but slavery his entire life. He served his master's family since the time of his birth. They would hire him out around the local community. Just prior to the war, Silas entered into a slave marriage with a woman named Lucy, whose mother Polly was a mulatto house slave and whose father was an unidentified slave owner. She was the product of an "illegitimate relationship.”

Out of 36 other plantation slaves, Silas was sent by his master's mother to join him in defending the cause of the Confederacy. When his master was wounded in the leg, Silas joined him at the makeshift hospital where he was taken. The surgeons decided the leg could not be saved and were determined to amputate it. However, Silas refused to allow them to carry out their operation. To this, his master's family was grateful. At the time, Silas was 26 years old while his master was 19.

According to a descendant of the family, Silas "managed to hoist his master into a convenient boxcar." Silas later joined the war again to defend the cause of the Confederacy with his master's brother, who would be his new master for the remainder of the war. During this time, he would join his master in defending the president of the ‘Confederate States of America’ and his entourage as they fled federal forces. Three days after their escort was disbanded, they both surrendered as did the Confederate president. After the Civil War, Silas continued his profession as a talented carpenter, notably working to build a Baptist church with other freedmen. Silas, along with 1,739 men of color, received a state pension for his service through a program that began in 1888. He passed away in 1919 at the age of 82.

Learn more about the history behind this photograph here and here.

Burrell (right), enslaved by Confederate sergeant John Wallace Comer (left) of the 57th Alabama Infantry Regiment

Burrell

Burrell's master was the brother of the governor in his state. He was just one of about 60 slaves on the plantation. At 16, he joined his master in defending the Confederate cause. In one battle, when his master was injured, Burrell braved enemy fire to drag him to safety. He then brought his master to a boat and rowed him about 260 miles to his mother, so that he could recover. His master would remark in a letter that his slave was too valuable for him to sell.

But Burell's slave master also had this to say of his dear partner: "Burrell was not really a soldier. He was still a ‘Negro'." After the war, the formerly enslaved Burrell got a stipend from the state for his service.

John Terrill (right), enslaved by J. B. White (left) of the 6th Tennessee Cavalry, Company D - John served as an escort on the staff of Brigadier-General James Ronald Chalmers.

John

John accompanied his master, a Confederate brigadier general in defense of the Confederate cause. Years after the Civil War, he became a doctor for the local black community.

Not all black civilians living in Confederate territory were excited about defending the way of life in the south.

William Makepeace Thayer (1820-1898), a Congressional Clergyman, recalls a conversation with such a slave:

“'Tom, they tell me that you won’t fight if you do enlist; and that you love your masters so much, that, the moment you meet them on the battlefield, you will throw down your own arms, and rush into theirs. Is that so?’ Straightening up with a new sparkle in his eyes, Tom answered, ‘Lieutenant, I know dey says dese tings; but dey lies. Our masters may talk now all dey choose; but one ting’s sartin, dey don’t dare to try us. Jess put de guns into our hans, and you’ll soon see dat we not only know how to shoot, but who to shoot. My master wouldn’t be wuff much ef I was a soldier.'"

When analyzing the ‘patriotism’ of blacks throughout the Civil War towards the so-called Confederate States of America, the relationship between masters and slaves in the Antebellum South, cannot be undermined or ignored. The significance of this social dynamic that existed in the southern states between the white men and black men is such that any discussion on Black Confederates without taking this into consideration is devoid of any real context. The question of whether or not Black Confederates existed is not so much a question of if the rebelling states had any black men within their ranks, but rather, a question of whether or not any of the men pictured above were in a situation that was any different from the child pictured below.

This photo by Confederate photographer A.J. Riddle from the collection of David Wynn Vaughan was on display at the Smithsonian's National Portrait Gallery in Washington, D.C. in April 2013.

Read More about it here.

So...Were There ‘Black Confederates’?

Yes. They Existed, Sure.

There were reports of black regiments as well.

Even while Frederick Douglass wrote about the Battle of First Manassas in the August 1861 issue of his newspaper, Douglass’ Monthly that there were “real soldiers”, he also wrote of them what he believed was the only reasonable explanation for their presence...

...among rebels were black troops, no doubt pressed into service by their tyrant masters.

According to The Root:

They made up less than 1% of the 800,000 black men of military age (17-50) living in the Confederate states, based on 1860 U.S. census figures, and less than 1% of at least 750,000 Confederate soldiers.

But while some chose to be soldiers (if not pushed into doing so), did Black People ever choose to become Black Confederates?

Here, we see the undeniable truth. All the debating in the world cannot replace the answer that this photo clearly presents before the eyes. For many, it was very clear they had no option.

What were some of the factors that might have led to a decision for assisting in the Confederate efforts?

Can we find some of those factors in the face of the unknown body servant standing behind the Confederate captain?

Did regular black boys and black men somehow sign up to be someone’s slave just to be part of the resistance against “oppressive federal infringements” on the free rights of southerners? Was this assigned role somehow the ticket to being a soldier in the Confederate army if you were black or is there more here?

There is no escaping this fact: Scott, Marlboro, Silas, Burrell, and John all stood in the place of that young unknown body servant. They had as much of a choice in lifting a gun to their shoulders in the presence of their masters as that child did. They helped whenever they could around the house, on the plantation, at camp, and in the field. But there was always someone they could never help wherever they went and no matter how far they would have gone in their service for the cause of white supremacy: they could never help themselves.

They could not help themselves to the first fruits of their own wealth as they toiled to secure the wealth of their white masters. They could not help their own families to safety while they were out there risking life and limb for their white masters and their families. They could not even be men. How then could they be warriors?

For some time, this was also the case for the blacks in Lincoln’s army.

Federal Soldier With His Young Black Servant

Blacks were servants for both the federal army and for the army of the rebelling states during the Civil War. The difference is that in 1863, while the Confederates were still bringing slaves into battle with them, the Union was bringing trained and paid soldiers into battle with them. For over 2 years in the Union army, black men were allowed to be enlistees and officers. For less than a month in the Confederate army, black men were allowed the privilege of identifying themselves among the rank and file. Imagine all the stories you could tell about your week-long experience in battle.

About 90,000 black men who were formerly enslaved in their own country joined the Civil War as soldiers on the Union side. The other half of the black volunteers were free and in total, these men comprised 10% of the army of the United States who saw a mutual enemy in the fighting force of the Confederacy.

To ask if black slaves proudly joined a war against themselves is to ask if black people enjoyed living as slaves. An analysis of 1930s slave narratives reveals that only 3% of interviewed slaves professed a “genuine affection” of their master.

To ask if free blacks who contributed to the Confederacy did so with a conscience that was also free towards people who had none is to ask if black people would have been willing to trade their freedom at any time in their lives for an eternity in slavery for no reason at all. While there is evidence of some free, especially wealthy blacks who did, indeed, support the Confederacy, their community reputation was just as important (if not more essential) to their survival as their property interests.

To ask whether black people would have proudly supported a regime that sought to relegate them to the bottom of society forever while maintaining the supremacy of everyone else is to ask if black people were stupid.

And to put it simply, to claim today that any sane black person actually lived and died for the Confederate States of America, knowing full well that the Confederate States of America was a bad deal for black people, is the same as to claim that you desire our ignorance and we deserve yours.

Sources:

The History Network

http://www.history.com/topics/american-civil-war/black-civil-war-soldiers

http://www.history.com/this-day-in-history/confederacy-approves-black-soldiers

Encyclopedia Virginia

https://www.encyclopediavirginia.org/media_player?mets_filename=evm00002110mets.xml

https://www.encyclopediavirginia.org/Black_Confederates

http://blog.encyclopediavirginia.org/2011/10/feedback-hey-i-know-that-guy/

Civil War Talk

https://civilwartalk.com/threads/three-officers-and-slave-57th-georgia-infantry.123184/

https://civilwartalk.com/threads/confederate-officers-j-w-comer-and-his-servant-burrell.127567/

Georgia College Library Special Collections

(via Flickr)

https://www.flickr.com/photos/gcsuspecialcollections/6426944753

The Journal of Archibald C. McKinley

by Archibald Carlisle McKinley

University of Georgia Press, 1991

back cover

(via Google Books)

Hell's Broke Loose in Georgia: Survival in a Civil War Regiment

by Scott Walker

University of Georgia Press, Jul 1, 2007

page 32, 82-83, and 93

(via Google Books)

The Library of Congress

https://www.loc.gov/item/2014647512/

http://www.loc.gov/rr/print/coll/SoldierbiosChandler.html

New York Times Opinionator

https://opinionator.blogs.nytimes.com/2013/09/24/a-slaves-service-in-the-confederate-army/?_php=true&_type=blogs&_r=0

Museum and White House of the Confederacy

Sons of Confederate Veterans Camp 260 newsletter (2006)

A Youth's History of the Rebellion: From the battle of Murfreesboro' to the massacre at Fort Pillow

J. Miller, 1865

page 111

(via Google Books)

Williamson County Historical Society

https://battleoffranklin.wordpress.com/2011/02/14/john-terrill/

Heritage Auctions

https://historical.ha.com/itm/photography/cdvs/absolutely-one-of-the-most-moving-civil-war-images-we-ve-ever-cataloged-carte-de-visite-of-a-federal-soldier-with-his-young/a/6083-52018.s

#black history #american history #African Americans #american civil war #civil war #confederacy #confederate #confederate states of america #union army #military #military history #slavery #american slavery #u.s. history #black confederates #southern pride #dixie

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thefabulousfulcrum · 8 years ago

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I Know Why Poor Whites Chant Trump, Trump, Trump

From the era of slavery to the rise of Donald Trump, wealthy elites have relied on the loyalty of poor whites. All Americans deserve better.

via StirJournal

I’m just a poor white trash motherfucker. No one cares about me.

I met the man who said those words while working as a bartender in the Ozark Mountains of northwest Arkansas. It was a one-street town in Benton County. It had a beauty parlor, a gas station, and a bar where locals came on Friday nights to shoot the shit over cheap drinks and country music. I arrived in Arkansas by way of another little town in Louisiana, where all but a few local businesses had boarded up when Walmart moved in. In Arkansas, I was struggling to survive. I served drinks in the middle of the afternoon to people described as America’s “white underclass” — in other words, people just like me.

Across the highway from the bar was the trailer park where I lived. I bought my trailer for $1000, and it looked just like you would imagine a trailer that cost $1000 would look. There was a big hole in the ceiling, and parts of the floor were starting to crumble under my feet. It leaned to one side, and the faint odor of death hung around the bathroom. No doubt a squirrel or a rat had died in the walls. I told myself that once the flesh was gone, dissolved into the nothingness, the smell would go away, but it never did. Maybe that’s what vermin ghosts smell like.

I loved that trailer. Sitting in a ratty brown La-Z-Boy, I would look around my tin can and imagine all the ways I could paint the walls in shades of possibility. I loved it for the simple reason that it was the first and only home I have ever owned.

My trailer was parked in the middle of Walmart country, which is also home to J.B. Hunt Transportation, Glad Manufacturing, and Tyson Chicken. There is a whole lot of money in that pocket of Arkansas, but the grand wealth casts an oppressive shadow over a region entrenched in poverty. Executive mansions line the lakefronts and golf courses. On the other side of Country Club Road, trailer parks are tucked back in the woods. The haves and have-nots rarely share the same view, with one exception: politics. Benton County has been among the most historically conservative counties in Arkansas. The last Democratic president Benton County voted for was Harry S. Truman, in 1948.

There is an unavoidable question about places like Benton County, a question many liberals have tried to answer for years now: Why do poor whites vote along the same party lines as their wealthy neighbors across the road? Isn’t that against their best interests?

Ask a Republican, and they’ll probably say conservatives are united by shared positions on moral issues: family values, religious freedom, the right to life, the sanctity of marriage, and, of course, guns.

Ask a Democrat the same question, and they might mention white privilege, but they’re more likely to describe conservatives as racist, sexist, homophobic gun nuts who believe Christianity should be the national religion.

But what if those easy answers are two sides of the same political coin, a coin that keeps getting hurled back and forth between the two parties without ever shedding light on the real, more complicated truth?

I’m just a poor white trash motherfucker. No one cares about me.

What if he’s right?

• • •

People want to be heard. They want to believe their voices matter. A January 2016 survey by the Rand Corporation reported that Republican primary voters are 86.5 percent more likely to favor Donald Trump if they “somewhat agree” or “strongly agree” with the statement, “People like me don’t have any say about what the government does.”

What is it about a flamboyant millionaire that appeals to poor white conservatives? Why do they believe a Trump presidency would amplify their voices? The answer may lie in America’s historical relationship between the wealthiest class and the army of poor whites who have loyally supported them.

From the time of slavery (yes, slavery) to the rise of Donald Trump, wealthy elites have relied on the allegiance of the white underclass to retain their affluence and political power. To understand this dynamic, to see through the eyes of poor and working class whites as they chant, “Trump, Trump, Trump,” let’s look back at a few unsavory slices of America’s capitalist pie.

ntil the first African slaves were brought to Jamestown, Virginia, in 1619, wealthy plantation owners relied on indentured servants for cheap labor. These white servants were mostly poor Europeans who traded their freedom for passage to the American colonies. They were given room and board, and, after four to seven years of grueling servitude, freedom.

About 40 percent lived long enough to see the end of their contract. Colonial law provided “freedom dues,” which usually included 100 acres of land, a small sum of money, and a new suit of clothes. Yet some freed servants didn’t know what was due them, and they were swindled out of their land grants. With no resources and nowhere to go, many walked to regions where land could still be homesteaded, and settled in remote areas such as the Appalachian Mountains.

As the British labor market improved in the 1680s, the idea of indentured servitude lost its appeal to many would-be immigrants. Increasing demand for indentured servants, many of whom were skilled laborers, soon bumped up against a dwindling supply, and the cost of white indentured servants rose sharply. Plantation owners kept skilled white servants, of course, often making them plantation managers and supervisors of slaves. This introduced the first racial divide between skilled and unskilled workers.

Still, African slaves were cheaper, and the supply was plentiful. Seeing an opportunity to realize a higher return on investment, elite colonial landowners began to favor African slaves over white indentured servants, and shifted their business models accordingly. They trained slaves to take over the skilled jobs of white servants.

An investment in African slaves also ensured a cost-effective, long-term workforce. Female slaves were often raped by their white owners or forced to breed with male slaves, and children born into slavery remained slaves for life. In contrast, white female servants who became pregnant were often punished with extended contracts, because a pregnancy meant months of lost work time. From a business perspective, a white baby was a liability, but African children were permanent assets.

As the number of African slaves grew, landowners realized they had a problem on their hands. Slave owners saw white servants living, working, socializing, and even having babies with African slaves. Sometimes they tried to escape together. What’s more, freed white servants who received land as part of their freedom dues had begun to complain about its poor quality. This created a potentially explosive situation for landowners, as oppressed workers quickly outnumbered the upper classes. What was to prevent freed whites, indentured servants, and African slaves from joining forces against the tyranny of their masters?

As Edmund S. Morgan says in his book American Slavery, American Freedom, “The answer to the problem, obvious if unspoken and only gradually recognized, was racism, to separate dangerous free whites from dangerous slave blacks by a screen of racial contempt.”

Many slave owners in both the North and South were also political leaders. Soon, they began to pass laws that stipulated different treatment of white indentured servants, newly freed white men, and African slaves. No white indentured servant could be beaten while naked, but an African slave could. Any free white man could whip a Black slave, and most important, poor whites could “police” Black slaves. These new laws gave poor whites another elevation in status over their Black peers. It was a slow but effective process, and with the passing of a few generations, any bond that indentured servants shared with African slaves was permanently severed.

As slavery expanded in the South and indentured servitude declined, the wealthy elite offered poor whites the earliest version of the American Dream: if they worked hard enough, they could achieve prosperity, success, and upward social mobility — if not for themselves, then perhaps for future generations.

But few realized that dream. In “The Whiting of Euro-Americans: A Divide and Conquer Strategy,” the Rev. Dr. Thandeka notes:

Not surprisingly, however, poor whites never became the economic equals of the elite. Though both groups’ economic status rose, the gap between the wealthy and poor widened as a result of slave productivity. Thus, poor whites’ belief that they now shared status and dignity with their social betters was largely illusory.

With whites and Blacks divided, the wealthy elite prospered enormously for the next two hundred years while poor whites remained locked in poverty. With the potential election of Abraham Lincoln, however, the upper class began to worry they would lose their most valuable commodity: slave labor. The numbers were not on their side — not the financial numbers, but the number of bodies it would take to wage war should Lincoln try to abolish slavery. And it was white male bodies they needed. (Poor women were of little value to the rich, since they couldn’t vote or fight in a war.) So how did wealthy plantation owners convince poor white males to fight for a “peculiar institution” that did not benefit them?

Another warning from Georgia Commissioner Henry Benning to the Virginia legislature predicted,Religious and political leaders began using a combination of fear, sex, and God to paint a chilling picture of freed angry Black men ravaging the South. Rev. Richard Furman stated,

… every Negro in South Carolina and every other Southern state will be his own master; nay, more than that, will be the equal of every one of you. If you are tame enough to submit, abolition preachers will be at hand to consummate the marriage of your daughters to black husbands.

War will break out everywhere like hidden fire from the earth. We will be overpowered and our men will be compelled to wander like vagabonds all over the earth, and as for our women, the horrors of their state we cannot contemplate in imagination. We will be completely exterminated and the land will be left in the possession of the blacks, and then it will go back to a wilderness and become another Africa or Saint Domingo.

Wealthy plantation owners had succeeded in separating the two races, and they now planted a fear of Blacks in the minds of poor and working white men. Enslaved Blacks were an asset to the wealthy, but freed Blacks were portrayed as a danger to all. By creating this common enemy among rich and poor alike, the wealthy elite sent a clear message: fight with us against abolitionists and you will remain safe.

It worked. Poor and working class whites signed up by the hundreds of thousands to fight for what they believed was their way of life. Meanwhile, many of the wealthy planters who benefitted economically from slavery were granted exemptions from military service and avoided the horrors of battle. On both sides of the Mason-Dixon line, wealthy elites were allowed to pay other men to take their place on the bloody battlefields. As the war lingered on, poor whites in the North and South began to realize the rich had waged the war, but it was the poor who were dying in it.

I’m just a poor white trash motherfucker. No one cares about me.

With more than 650,000 deaths, the end of the Civil War eventually brought freedom for African-Americans. But after the war, ex-slaves were left to linger and die in a world created by those in the North who no longer cared and those in the South who now resented their existence. Poor whites didn’t fare much better. Without land, property, or hope for economic gains, many freed Blacks and returning white soldiers turned to sharecropping and found themselves once again working side by side, dependent on wealthy landowners.

• • •

During the Reconstruction Era, the press continued to spread “black men raping white women” propaganda. Again, this was intended to prevent poor whites and poor Blacks from joining forces. As Ida B. Wells wrote in her 1892 pamphlet, Southern Horrors: Lynch Law in All Its Phases:

The editorial in question was prompted by the many inhuman and fiendish lynchings of Afro-Americans which have recently taken place and was meant as a warning. Eight lynched in one week and five of them charged with rape! The thinking public will not easily believe freedom and education more brutalizing than slavery, and the world knows that the crime of rape was unknown during four years of civil war when the white women of the South were at the mercy of the race which is all at once charged with being a bestial one.

This fear and mistrust continued for decades, not just in the South, but throughout all of America. From the factories of industrialized cities in the North to rural farmlands in the Midwest, from the Statue of Liberty in the East to the filmmakers in the West, racism had replaced classism as the most blatant form of oppression. But classism lingered, despite what wealthy elites would have Americans believe.

Martin Luther King Jr. saw the enduring oppression of both poor whites and Blacks. In December 1967, King and the Southern Christian Leadership Conference (SCLC) began organizing the Poor People’s Campaign of 1968. According to Rev. Dr. Ralph Abernathy, the campaign’s goal was to “dramatize the plight of America’s poor of all races and make very clear that they are sick and tired of waiting for a better life.”

King alluded to that goal when he spoke about wealth inequality in “The Drum Major Instinct” on February 4, 1968. In his sermon, he talked about a conversation with his white jailers, saying:

And then we got down one day to the point — that was the second or third day — to talk about where they lived, and how much they were earning. And when those brothers told me what they were earning, I said, “Now, you know what? You ought to be marching with us. You’re just as poor as Negroes.” And I said, “You are put in the position of supporting your oppressor, because, through prejudice and blindness, you fail to see that the same forces that oppress Negroes in American society oppress poor white people. And all you are living on is the satisfaction of your skin being white, and the drum major instinct of thinking that you are somebody big because you are white. And you’re so poor you can’t send your children to school. You ought to be out here marching with every one of us every time we have a march.”

Now that’s a fact. That the poor white has been put into this position, where through blindness and prejudice, he is forced to support his oppressors. And the only thing he has going for him is the false feeling that he’s superior because his skin is white — and can’t hardly eat and make his ends meet week in and week out.

The first Poor People’s Campaign gathering took place in Atlanta in March 1968, and included more than fifty multiracial organizations committed to the radical redistribution of political and economic power.

When King was assassinated just a month later on April 4, the SCLC and King’s widow, Coretta Scott, decided to go ahead with the campaign. On Mother’s Day, May 12, thousands of women formed the ﬁrst wave of demonstrators, led by Coretta Scott King and joined by Ethel Kennedy, wife of presidential candidate Sen. Robert Kennedy. Protestors built a temporary encampment on the Mall in Washington, D.C., and 3,000 participants occupied “Resurrection City” for over a month. In June, 50,000 demonstrators joined them for the Solidarity Day Rally for Jobs, Peace, and Freedom. SCLC leaders and the National Welfare Rights Organization lobbied Congress to introduce an “economic bill of rights” for all Americans.

Robert Kennedy, a key advocate for the campaign, was assassinated on June 6, 1968, a month into the campaign. His funeral procession passed through Resurrection City. Discouraged by the murders of King and Kennedy, scarce media coverage, and horrible living conditions in the camp, demonstrators’ optimism waned. Their land use permit expired on June 24, and Resurrection City closed. When the Poor People’s Campaign ended, so ended King’s vision of turning the nation’s attention to eradicating poverty among all people, and guaranteeing all people the opportunity for meaningful jobs with livable wages.

The minimum wage for a tipped position in Arkansas — like the one I held as a bartender — is $2.63 an hour. The assumption is that tipped workers will earn their own minimum wages by making up the difference in tips. When this happens, a “tip credit” is given to employers, and they save money by paying less than the standard minimum wage.

It was the way I spoke that landed me the job. I had no experience, but the owner of the bar told a friend she hired me because, “she speaks well and has all her own teeth.” I guess she assumed I would learn to make drinks. I didn’t. I wasn’t very good at my job, but one thing I was good at was listening. And what I often heard was a growing dissatisfaction among poor whites who were struggling to make ends meet in the failing economy.

I understood their fear and frustration. I’ve spent a great deal of my life living in poverty. It’s scary being poor, worrying that one parking ticket would mean I couldn’t buy groceries, or deciding whether I should see a dentist about a toothache or pay my trailer park fee. It’s humiliating and terrifying, but sitting around and crying about it isn’t an option because we know that the only thing more pathetic than someone living in poverty is someone living in poverty and crying about it. How many times have we been told to get a job, or that if we just worked harder we could improve our situation? Work harder. Work harder. Work harder. American society has made it perfectly clear: if you are poor, it’s your own damn fault.

I understood what it was to go hungry. Many times I didn’t eat on my days off, but waited until I could get back to work and sneak something from the kitchen. Remember that tip credit? I did, too, every time I stole a biscuit with gravy or a basket of tater tots.

I understood their anger. Since crying isn’t an option, we swallow the sadness, and it sits and churns and gets spit back out as anger. I’ve felt this anger more times than I care to remember. I was angry that I couldn’t afford to paint my walls in shades of possibility. I was angry at my life choices that never felt like real choices. I was angry that wealth and prosperity were all around me while my hands remained clenched in empty pockets.

What I couldn’t understand was why my customers directed their anger at other poor people.

“I applied for a job at Tyson Chicken. They only hire Mexicans because they work cheap. We need to get those people out if we want jobs.”

I heard this over and over from unemployed men at the bar. So why weren’t they angry with Tyson Foods, a company that could easily afford to pay higher wages? Why weren’t they angry with CEO-turned Chairman John Tyson, whose personal net worth is over a billion dollars?

The answer I always got was that John’s father, Donald “Don” J. Tyson, the college drop-out who built his own father’s chicken farm into a multi-billion-dollar company, was a good ol’ boy. He wasn’t highfalutin like the city slickers of California and New York. Tyson, they felt, was one of them, a working class man who’d bootstrapped his way into the top one percent. He wore a khaki uniform with his name embroidered over the pocket, spoke with an “aw shucks” southern twang and was often quoted as saying, “I’m just a chicken farmer.”

Donald J. Tyson

Don Tyson wasn’t just a chicken farmer, much like the plantation owners weren’t just cotton growers. He was a multi-billionaire running a global corporation. Didn’t they know that in 1997, Tyson Foods pled guilty and paid $6 million in fines and costs for making gifts to Mike Espy, then President Bill Clinton’s secretary of agriculture? Didn’t they know that, from 1988 to 1990, Bill Clinton gave Tyson Foods $7.8 million in tax breaks while turning a blind eye to 300 miles of rivers polluted from chicken waste? Maybe they didn’t know those things, but what they did know was that poor Mexicans were taking their jobs.

Over the years, Tyson Foods has settled numerous lawsuits, paying millions of dollars for infractions ranging from water pollution, race discrimination, and sex discrimination, as well as a $32 million wage settlement case.

“The Mexican guys just hire other Mexicans. You can’t even work there if you don’t speak Spanish.”

Were they right? I would say yes.

In December 2001, a federal grand jury indicted Tyson Foods and six managers on 36 counts related to conspiring to import undocumented workers into the U.S., and employing them at fifteen chicken processing plants throughout the country. One defendant shot himself a few months after the indictment. Two made plea agreements and testified for the government. They said they were doing what the company demanded when they went along with the hiring of illegal workers. The remaining three executives claimed the others were “rogue” employees, and denied any knowledge of wrongdoing; they were acquitted.

The grand jury alleged that the conspiracy began in 1994, when Tyson executive Gerald Lankford mentioned production at a Tennessee facility and said, “That plant needs more Mexicans.”

There was no question that Tyson illegally smuggled undocumented workers into the U.S. The trial was about who initiated the operation. Regardless of who knew what, at least three managers at Tyson saw that brown workers were cheaper than white workers, and adjusted their business model accordingly.

• • •

It makes perfect sense that Don Tyson would say, “My theory about politics is that if they will just leave me alone, we’ll do just fine.” What didn’t make sense to me was that poor and working class locals would agree with him.

Don Tyson, having lived his entire life in northwest Arkansas, was one of them. I wasn’t. I was born and raised in California. Sure, my people were blue-collar rednecks and my mother often reminded me that we were one generation removed from poor white trash, but I wasn’t Southern and I didn’t speak their language. My speech pattern wasn’t formed by higher education or a silver spoon in my mouth; it was simply a matter of accent. But it is an accent associated with liberal snobs. I was an outsider.

Don Tyson didn’t make poor people in town feel inferior, but outsiders did. I’m not surprised, considering how socially acceptable it has become to mock poor whites, especially those born and raised in the South. Instead of fighting for better education for the white underclass, we call them ignorant rednecks. Instead of fighting for them to have better health care, we laugh at their missing teeth. Instead of fighting for them to have better housing, we joke about tornados hitting trailer parks.

Luckily, life often has a way of turning stereotypes on their heads, if we pay attention.

I was working my day shift at the bar, the same regulars sitting on the same barstools. Three men I’d never seen came in and sat at a table on the patio. They looked like most everyone else in the area, blue-collar scruffy types. I figured they were on a lunch break or they were in town to fish on the lake. I took their order, brought their food, and when they finished eating, dropped off the check. When they came up to the register to pay, one of the men made a comment about my hat. I didn’t catch what he said but his friends smirked.

I said, “Excuse me?”

My hat was a black and white newsboy cap. It covered my head on days I didn’t feel like doing my hair. But to the man, it meant something else, something I didn’t understand.

He said, “I guess you like ‘em black.”

I said, “My hat?”

I was confused and I felt tension in the air. The bar had gone quiet. One of my regulars was sitting near the register, and he asked the man if he was from a particular town, one I hadn’t heard of. When the man nodded, my regular said, “Well, we don’t roll like that around here.”

I handed the man his change. He glanced around at the regulars staring at him. It felt like a stand-off in an old western movie. Was a brawl about to break out over my hat? The man shook his head, looked at me in disgust, and walked out with his friends. The tension left with them.

I asked, “What the hell was that all about?”

“They’re Klan,” my customer said. I must have looked shocked. He said, “Don’t worry. We got your back.”

A few months later, I left Arkansas and moved to Vancouver, Washington. Across the river in Portland, they call it “Vantucky.” I always dreaded driving into Portland with my big F150 truck sporting Arkansas plates. I imagined the liberal urbanites seeing me as one of “those people,” as if they expected me to barrel down the street chucking Walmart bags full of trash out the open window while blasting “Sweet Home Alabama” on my way to shoot up an abortion clinic. This was all in my head, but in a city known for its liberalism, I once again felt I didn’t belong.

I signed up for training to be a court appointed special advocate (CASA) for kids in foster care, and attended a series of classes in Vancouver. One night, the instructors gathered the forty or so trainees for an exercise. We stood in a room and the leader of the group read a list of statements. Without speaking, we were to cross to the other side if the statement applied to us or stay in our place if it didn’t. As the exercise went on, I started to notice a pattern.

“I’ve been affected by a family member’s drug or alcohol problem.” I crossed the room with a third of the volunteers.

“I’ve been affected by poverty.” I crossed the room with a tiny fraction of volunteers.

“I’ve graduated with a degree in higher education.” I stayed in my place as all but one woman crossed to the other side. The woman stood next to me and held my arm, and I immediately sized her up: older, well-dressed, probably married right out of high school. Privileged.

It was an exercise in non-judgment — and it was humiliating. Not a single person looked at us. Their eyes focused on the floor, their hands, or something incredibly interesting on the ceiling. I suppose it was the polite, non-judgmental thing to do. If something or someone makes us uncomfortable, we simply avert our eyes and create an invisible barrier. You stay over there. I’ll stay over here.

Those two experiences helped me see more clearly than ever how fool-headed it is to stereotype people based on how they look and where they live. The “redneck hillbillies” in that Arkansas bar could have laughed with the three Klan members, or said nothing at all. Instead, they stood up for me — an outsider — and made it known that the Klan wasn’t welcome there. On the other hand, I assumed a group of liberal, college-educated volunteers would ooze warmth and solidarity. But in class that night, I didn’t feel especially welcome. And I felt ashamed for judging that woman’s life based entirely on her appearance.

I’m just a poor white trash motherfucker. No one cares about me.

What would America look like today if King had succeeded in uniting poor people of all races? Would my bar customers in Arkansas more easily identify with Blacks, Hispanics, and other people of color than with billionaires like Don Tyson? Would they feel as if their voices mattered, as if they had some say in what their government does?

Martin Luther King Jr. was concerned about poverty, and he also saw the growing inequality between the richest Americans and the poor and working classes. By the 1960s, this inequality was on the rise, but would soon become much more pronounced.

In 1976 — just eight years after King’s call for unity among all poor people — Ronald Reagan launched his second unsuccessful bid for the Republican presidential nomination. In his campaign, he repeatedly trotted out the now infamous “Welfare Queen” story.

Reagan got the GOP nod in 1980, and during his presidential campaign, he portrayed himself as a grandfatherly, all-American cowboy, a true Washington outsider. He promised to fix the economy with a combination of tax breaks, reduced government regulation, and cuts to federal programs.

Reagan’s economic plan, dubbed “Reaganomics,” provided tax cuts that primarily benefitted the rich. The intent was to encourage the upper classes to spend and invest more, which would boost the economy and create new jobs. His disdain for welfare hadn’t changed. To offset tax cuts and massive increases in military spending, Reagan slashed federal social programs — for low-income Americans.

Neither Reagan nor Congress was willing to touch Social Security, Medicare, or Medicaid; they were too popular among the middle class. This left a tiny portion of the federal budget for social programs on the chopping block, including food stamps, vocational education, and subsidized housing, among others. From fiscal year 1980 to fiscal year 1987, federal funding for these programs plummeted by 35.6 percent.

After a two-year recession, the economy rebounded and continued to grow. Yet while the Reagan administration congratulated themselves on the economic expansion, poor people were still struggling. But Reagan had given poor whites someone to blame for their suffering: the Welfare Queen. He never said she was Black. He didn’t have to.

Lee Atwater was an adviser to both Reagan and President George H. W. Bush, and chairman of the Republican National Committee from 1989 until his death two years later. In 1981, while working in Reagan’s White House, Atwater gave an interview to Alexander Lamis, a political scientist at Case Western Reserve University. In an unguarded moment that Atwater believed was off the record, he said:

You start out in 1954 by saying, “Nigger, nigger, nigger.” By 1968 you can’t say “nigger” — that hurts you, backfires. So you say stuff like, uh, forced busing, states’ rights, and all that stuff, and you’re getting so abstract. Now, you’re talking about cutting taxes, and all these things you’re talking about are totally economic things and a byproduct of them is, blacks get hurt worse than whites.… “We want to cut this,” is much more abstract than even the busing thing, uh, and a hell of a lot more abstract than “Nigger, nigger.”

In five short sentences, Atwater explained how Republican politicians could appeal to poor whites’ racism (conscious or unconscious) without using blatantly racist language. This shift was important because Reagan had cut social programs that began with the presidencies of John F. Kennedy and Lyndon B. Johnson.

In 1987, Reagan quipped, “In the 60s we waged a war on poverty, and poverty won.” That was pretty glib for a President who had just slashed social services by almost 36 percent. What was to keep poor whites from seeing they had lost just as much as poor Blacks?In 1963, President John Kennedy had begun planning a “war on poverty” intended to help poor, southern whites — particularly in Appalachia and the rural South. Kennedy had visited Appalachia during the 1960 presidential campaign, and was shocked by what he saw — ”the hungry children, … the old people who cannot pay their doctors bills, the families forced to give up their farms.” Many of these families were descendants of white indentured servants who had fled to the Appalachian Mountains. The poverty Kennedy saw was, in part, a legacy of the era of slavery.

President Johnson, a greater ally to Black civil rights leaders than Kennedy had been, took over the program after Kennedy’s assassination and expanded its scope. These programs ultimately helped poor Blacks and poor whites, in both urban and rural areas.

The groundwork had already been laid. It wasn’t Reagan’s fault that social programs had to be cut. The “welfare queens” made him do it. Poor whites were still poorer, but at least they weren’t criminals, and that distinction was critical in their minds.

“It’s one of those persistent symbols that come up every election cycle,” says Kaaryn Gustafson, author of Cheating Welfare: Public Assistance and the Criminalization of Poverty. “This image of the lazy African-American woman who refuses to get a job and keeps having kids is pretty enduring. It’s always been a good way to distract the public from any meaningful conversations about poverty and inequality.”

Gustafson’s inclusion of inequality is important, because inequalities in both income and wealth distribution would soon begin a steep climb. The reality of Reaganomics was that Americans who gained the most were the nation’s richest ten percent. During periods of economic expansion, the bottom 90 percent saw a decline in income gains. By 2012, those gains had been replaced by losses.

In hindsight, it makes perfect sense that President Reagan would share Don Tyson’s desire for smaller government. In 1986, Reagan said, “The most terrifying words in the English language are: I’m from the government and I’m here to help.” What doesn’t make sense is that America’s white underclass would agree with him.

Public assistance programs are easy targets for politicians, thanks in part to the racial divide introduced by slave owners in colonial America. Politicians, the corporate media, and giant employers (like Tyson) have continued to drive socioeconomic wedges between poor whites and poor minorities. Working class whites may view economic struggles as temporary setbacks, and see their use of social services as a last resort. But politicians keep implying that for minorities, public assistance is a way of life.

Many social programs — the Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program (SNAP), Temporary Assistance for Needy Families (TANF), Women, Infants and Children (WIC) — provide benefits that cannot be abused. Yet the message to the white underclass was clear: your tax dollars are being squandered on undeserving people looking for a free ride. I can’t speak to how much assistance people with children or disabilities receive, but I can tell you what I received as a single, childless adult with no assets and a zero balance in my checking account. I qualified for less than $200 a month through the SNAP food stamp program. That’s it. I wasn’t living large off the man. I wasn’t kicking back playing video games on a big screen TV. I was struggling to survive until I could find work.

I didn’t have the luxury of feeling shame or embarrassment about using food stamps, but I didn’t prance into the grocery store waving my card around, either. At the checkout line, I shielded my card, and myself, from the people around me. I thought, “Fuck you and your judgment.”

When I eventually found a job, I no longer qualified for assistance, and I remained poor. My story is common and unremarkable, unlike the fictional tale of welfare recipients driving luxury cars and eating lobster every night.

• • •

When terrorists attacked the U.S. on September 11, 2001, Americans pulled together. They displayed a unity reminiscent of the weeks following the bombing of Pearl Harbor. President George. W. Bush declared, “America is united.”

Ultimately, there would be two versions of unity: one for the rich and one for the poor.

The Carlyle Group was named after the luxury hotel where founding members first met in 1987 to discuss the creation of a multinational private equity corporation. In 2001, employees and advisors of the firm included former U.S. President George H. W. Bush; Bush’s former Secretary of State James Baker; former Secretary of Defense Frank C. Carlucci; and former British Prime Minister John Major.

Under the guidance of this powerful lineup of Washington insiders and international leaders, the Carlyle Group soon became known for buying businesses related to the defense industry — and tripling their value during wartime. In 2002, they received $677 million in government contracts. By 2003, as the war effort shifted focus from Afghanistan to Iraq in search of weapon of mass destruction, the defense contracts leapt to $2.1 billion.

The Carlyle Group wasn’t the only corporation that would profit from the wars. From 2003 to 2013, KBR — a subsidiary of Halliburton, once run by Dick Cheney — was awarded $39.5 billion in government contracts. Other war profiteers include Agility ($7.4 billion), DynCorp ($4.1 billion), and Blackwater ($1.3 billion). By early 2013, private defense contractors had collectively earned more than $138 billion.

A 2006 report by the Institute for Policy Studies found that, in 2005, CEOs of the largest U.S. private defense contractors continued to profit from the ongoing wars.

Defense CEO pay was 44 times that of a military general with 20 years of experience and 308 times that of an Army private in 2005. Generals made $174,452 and Army privates made $25,085, while average defense CEO pay was $7.7 million.

In contrast to wealthy individuals who became even wealthier, those who were sent to do the actual fighting comprised disproportionately high numbers of working class Americans. In the combined efforts of Operation Enduring Freedom in Afghanistan and Operation Iraqi Freedom, almost 7,000 U.S. soldiers have died. More than 970,000 veteran disability claims have been registered with the Veterans Administration.

Returning soldiers face higher unemployment rates than their civilian counterparts, particularly among male veterans age 21 to 24. Between 2009 and 2012, the youngest veterans had an unemployment rate of 21.6 percent, compared to 13.5 percent for civilians.

Veterans struggle to find proper healthcare in a system ill-prepared for the number of wounded, particularly those with catastrophic injuries and mental health issues that require long-term care. Private nonprofit organizations have been picking up the slack left by inadequate funding in the federal budget.

— Donald Trump, New York Times, 1999, “Liberties; Trump Shrugged”“My entire life, I’ve watched politicians bragging about how poor they are, how they came from nothing, how poor their parents and grandparents were. And I said to myself, if they can stay so poor for so many generations, maybe this isn’t the kind of person we want to be electing to higher office. How smart can they be? They’re morons.”

Donald Trump sells himself as a scrappy, self-made man whose vision, tenacity, and business savvy alone have made him one of the world’s most famous billionaires, but Trump is not self-made by any measure. A poster boy for generations of socioeconomic privilege, Trump joined the New York Military Academy at age thirteen, then studied at Fordham University before transferring to the Wharton School of the University of Pennsylvania. During the Vietnam War, Trump was granted five draft deferments — the first four for education, and the last for medical reasons.

In 1968, he joined his father’s real estate business, then conservatively valued at $40 million. Donald took over The Trump Organization in 1974 and restyled the company in his image — a special blend of ego, flamboyance, and rabid ambition. He steered clear of the steerage class and catered exclusively to the rich by buying or building luxury residential properties, office buildings, hotels, casinos, golf courses, and resorts.

Capital from his father’s company wasn’t Trump’s only empire-building head start. He depended on both government and private assistance, too, including tax abatements, financial support from the Securities and Exchange Commission (SEC), investors, and, during the company’s 1990 massive financial troubles, a bailout pact involving seventy banks.

In his 2000 book, The America We Deserve, Trump criticized governmental interference in American business. He wrote, “The greatest threat to the American Dream is the idea that dreamers need close government scrutiny and control. Job one for us is to make sure the public sector does a limited job, and no more.”

Trump didn’t seem threatened by the public sector’s involvement in his four corporate bankruptcies. Trump told Forbes in April 2011, “Basically I’ve used the laws of the country to my advantage and to other people’s advantage … just as many, many others on top of the business world have.”

In his eyes, Trump is a self-made entrepreneur who refuses to acknowledge the millions of dollars of family, public, and private assistance that helped him realize his gilt, mirrored glass, and pink marble American dream. Government regulations that stifle ambition are a threat to American dreamers everywhere, but laws that can be used to the advantage of top-of-the-business-world warriors are just fine.

It makes perfect sense that Trump would share Ronald Reagan’s and Don Tyson’s desire for smaller government. What doesn’t make sense is that America’s white underclass would agree with him.

Big or small, our government has failed everyone but the wealthiest class. Most politicians barely maintain a pretense of representing the people — except during election years when they talk about “issues” and make promises they have no intention of keeping. Once in office, they become puppets of the richest ten percent of Americans. If you think I’m exaggerating, watch this video.

Like their ancestors who fought in and survived the Civil War, today’s soldiers return to find their situations either the same, or much worse, than when they left. Who would blame them for being angry? As soldiers go off to war we say, “God bless our troops.” Maybe we should add, “God help them when they come home.”

Donald Trump is a business man. Until recently, money and fame were everything to him. He measured his success by his ranking in the Forbes 400 list of billionaires. Now, Trump wants power and control, too. Like wealthy plantation owners who just happened to be politicians, Trump does not need to be bought; he is already rich enough. From a business perspective, he’s trying to cut out the middle man — the politicians who have become puppets of the wealthy elite.

I’m just a poor white trash motherfucker. No one cares about me.

What if some people did care, but the wealthy pushed them away?

• • •

Marginalized people have been fighting for equality for decades. Admittedly, in the quest to fight for the oppressed — people of color, women, religious minorities, the LGBTQ community — we often overlook the fact that classism never completely disappeared. For the white underclass, it’s tempting to feel left out of this fight. But how can people fighting for social equality include poor whites who see them as the enemy?

If poor and working class whites who chant, “Trump, Trump, Trump,” believe they have little in common with these “enemies,” they are mistaken. We are all sides of the same coin, a coin that has been held in the pocket of the elite class since the first settlers arrived in the American colonies.

I’m no one special. I am a poor, uneducated, white woman. I am the white underclass, and I am no one’s enemy. I fight for racial equality because people of color are not my enemy. Gays, lesbians, bisexuals, and transgender people are not my enemy. Immigrants and refugees are not my enemy. Muslims are not my enemy. Native Americans are not my enemy. Single mothers and fathers are not my enemy. People on Medicare, disability, food stamps, and unemployment are not my enemy. The homeless are not my enemy. And it turns out that the people of a small Arkansas town in the middle of the Ozarks are not my enemy.

Other poor people are not the enemy, no matter how they look, how they pray, or who they love. They are fighting to be heard. They are people who, like Trump supporters, agree with the statement, “People like me don’t have any say about what the government does.”

Did slave owners care about white indentured servants when they pitted them against African slaves, or did they want to ensure a steady supply of cheap labor? Did Ronald Reagan care about poor white people when he trotted out the fictional welfare queen, or did he need a budget item to cut? Do wealthy elites and politicians care about poor and middle class people when they send them off to war, or are they anticipating massive profits?Trump supporters believe he’s different. They believe that he cares about us, that he tells it like it is, that he gives us a voice, that he can’t be bought because he’s already rich, that he’s railing against politics as usual.

But does Trump care about the white underclass, or does he still think poor people are “morons”?

Trump is railing against establishment politics not because he cares about the white underclass, but because he needs us — for now. He isn’t reaching out a hand to lift us up. He wants to stand on our shoulders so we can lift him up. For more than four hundred years, wealthy elites have depended on the white underclass to “help keep America great.” But who are we keeping it great for? When will we realize we have more in common with all poor people than with rich capitalists and corrupt politicians who manipulate the system to increase their own wealth, power, and control? Instead of wondering which billionaire will finally reach out a hand to raise us up, we should stop waiting and start acting.

• • •

“The Revolution is coming and it is a very beautiful revolution.”

“There must be better distribution of wealth and maybe America must move toward a democratic socialism.”

One of these quotes is from Martin Luther King Jr. in 1966; the other is from Bernie Sanders in 1969.

Bernie Sanders was born into a working-class home. His father dropped out of high school and supported the family as a paint salesman after coming to the U.S. from Poland and struggling through the Great Depression. Later, after the war, they would find out most of his family died in the Holocaust. From this, Bernie Sanders learned a life lesson, “An election in 1932 ended up killing 50 million people around the world.”

By the time Bernie graduated from college, he was alone. His brother had moved to England for work, and both of his parents had died. He moved to Vermont and held a variety of low-wage jobs, spending many of the following years broke. He is quoted in a New Yorker article as saying, “I do know what it’s like when the electric company shuts off the electricity and the phone company shuts off the phone — all that stuff. So, for me, to talk to working-class people is not very hard.”

He bootstrapped his way into politics and has remained loyal to the poor and working class for more than thirty years. He is not a millionaire. He has not built a fortune from his position holding office. He doesn’t make money by keeping others poor or sending them to war. He doesn’t gain power by keeping people silent. Donald Trump would have you believe Sanders is a “loser” for not taking financial advantage of his position. I prefer to call him one of our own.

Bernie Sanders doesn’t say that if you are poor, it’s your own damn fault. He says if you are poor, take my hand. Together we can lift you up. His campaign isn’t about freebies or handouts. It’s about opportunity. It’s about believing that, given a chance and an even playing field, the poor and working class can achieve their dreams. He knows this because he has lived it.

Sanders’ revolution is about lifting the hand of oppression so we can all move forward in equality. It is about everyone having the same opportunity to paint their walls in shades of possibility.

When we have been pushed down for so long, it can become impossible to see whose hands are keeping us there. Is it really welfare queens or immigrant laborers or Muslims, as Trump claims? I say no, because those people have so little power. Maybe the answer lies not in looking up, but in looking sideways and recognizing that our poor neighbors, who may be different than us, are struggling too. Maybe if we all look up together, we can see more clearly that the hand of oppression belongs only to those who have always had money, power, and control. Those are the real enemies.

The real enemies fear us. They know that if we come together, we will have the numbers on our side. They’ve always known this and it terrifies them. We must stop doing what they want: fighting among ourselves and allowing ourselves to be held down by their fear. We must direct a truly united voice against those who, four hundred years ago, created the American Dream and then held it out of reach. We must join together and fight back against the wealthy elite and corporate politicians. We must build a new country that belongs to all of us, a country where no one ever has to feel like just a poor motherfucker no one cares about.

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indomitablekushite · 8 years ago

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The patriotic, intelligent, enlightened, sophisticated, reliable, upwardly-mobile, proudly African, particularly the young and young at heart, is a Ma’at. It is probably too late to reform our over 40, 50 or so years old already too deeply captured by our oppressors’ lies and brainwashing and serving as the master’s megaphones, preachers, promoters and agents in our midst.

No true African is a Christian or Muslim. It is a contradiction in terms to link a legitimate African born, with Christianity or Islam. The idea is simply absurd, an abnormality, to say the least. These religions were the tools used to suppress and enslave our ancestors, and exploit and condemn us to our current state of wretchedness as a people, through ruthless brainwashing. A real African would have to be insane to identify with the religions the slavers used to obliterate his/her name, language, self-esteem, family, industries, history and intellectual, spiritual and material contributions to modern civilization. They are insane, because they rejoice the most over Yahweh’s ten plague attacks on our ancestors in Egypt. They compose songs, dance and make-merry over the idea, until they run out of strength and sleep off only to wake up the following morning and begin the shindig all over again over our adversities.

Of course, many would argue that there are some genuine Africans who are Christians or Muslims. Such arguments are usually based on the empty surface value of skin colour. The truth is that not every one that is Black or African on the outside is African inside. That is why after fifty years of flag independence, they are still hanging on to some mundane, outmoded, barbaric, narrow-minded, false, senseless, racist, alien spiritual pre-occupations, imposed by our selfish, de-humanizing slave masters. Typical African Christians and Muslims, call African cultures, traditions, values, and works of arts: primitive, savage and pagan. They smugly try to speak and carry themselves like the slave masters; insanely bleach to sore point to try to pass for White; arrogantly claim to be Christians and Muslims first, and due to their helpless, unappreciated freak of nature, Africans second. They are our Pastors and Imams, political leaders, school teachers, business tycoons and merchants, importing European excrements into our climes as fertilizers, because they believe, European excrement is superior to ours. They are usually the first to claim to be the authentic Africans only to be kneeling or hitting their heads on the floor the next minute, before images of their White and Arab gods, (Jesus, Muhammad, Yahweh-Allah), who they call their messiahs, husbands, fathers, saviours.

After the middle of the 17th century, the demand for Atlantic slave trade became insatiable and peaked in the 18th century. Each year, seven times as many slaves were leaving Western African coasts. For 500 years, from (1441-1870-1960 CE), with the Bible in one hand and the gun in the other, they unleashed a devastating, unprecedented, unrelenting, and un-godly, tyranny of hate, torture, enslavement, and colonization, on Africans. Africa was doubly disadvantaged; it was excluded from the economic flow engendered by the supposed ‘discoveries,’ and was bled dry by the exportation of humans in their dynamic ages, destined to replace the American Indians decimated by their European incursions. Progress on the continent came to a stop.

Many of the slave ships had Christian names, such as the ships of the slaver, Sir John Hawkins, licensed by Queen Elizabeth, named Jesus, Angel and Grace of God. Quite often, the captains of the slave ships were Christian clerics or priests. John Newton was one such captain of a slave-trading vessel. He read the Bible daily on board the ship while hundreds of human souls were in his ship’s hold. Pursued his studies for his ministry and held prayer services on deck twice daily. He wrote a hymn: “How Sweet the name of Jesus sounds.” Here is a White writer’s description of what happened on those ships: “Below the deck…sometimes more than five feet high and sometimes less; and this height is divided towards the middle, for the slaves lie in two rows, one above the other, on each side of the ship, close to each other like books upon a shelf…so close that the shelf would not easily contain any more. The poor creatures, thus cramped, are likewise in irons for the most part, which makes it difficult for them to turn or move or attempt to rise or lie down without hurting themselves or each other. Every morning, more instances than one are found of the living and the dead fastened together.”

To break and humble Africans, some of the most brutal and inhuman treatment in the history of mankind were practiced against them by Whites, on board those slave ships. Some captains, at the start of a journey would chop a number of slaves to bits, and force the others to watch and to eat the flesh. Torture and dismemberment were used to deter rebellion. White laws sanctioned the punishment meted out to Blacks by categorizing Africans as chattels, which like horses and cattle, could be bought, sold, mortgaged, borrowed, rented, bartered, etc. Christianity made slavery divine, arguing that the Africans were the children of Ham, who bore the curse of darkness from God. Missionaries often forced slaves to promise not to seek freedom, as a condition for being baptized. Women were routinely severely raped, and men were regularly castrated, their sex organs severed.

C.L.R. James in, (The Black Jacobins), tells us about some of the things that happened to our kith and kin on the sugar plantations in the Americas. “The whip was not always an ordinary cane or woven cord…sometimes it was replaced by a thick thong of cow hide, or by the lianes, a local growth of reeds, supple and pliant like whale bone…The slaves received the whip with more certainty and regularity than they received their food. It was the incentive to work and the guardian for discipline. But there was no ingenuity that fear of a depraved imagination could devise which was not employed to break their spirits and satisfy the lusts and resentment of their owners and guardians. Irons on the hands and feet, blocks of weed that the slaves had to drag behind them wherever they went, the tin-plate mask designed to prevent the slaves eating sugar cane, the iron collar. Whipping was interrupted in order to pass a piece of hot wood on the buttocks of the victims; salt, pepper, citron, cinders, aloes, and hot ashes were poured on the bleeding wounds. Mutilations were common, limbs, ears, and sometimes the private parts, to deprive them of the pleasure which they could indulge in without expense. Their masters poured burning wax on their arms and hands and shoulders, emptied the boiling sugar over their heads, burned them alive, roasted them on slow fires, filled them with gun power and blew them up with a match (this was called 'to burn a little powder in the ass of a nigger'); buried them up to their necks and smeared their heads with sugar that the flies might devour them, fastened them near to nests of ants or wasps; made then eat their excrement, drink their urine and lick the saliva of other slaves.”

Sir Han Sloane, an obvious sadist, who visited the British Islands in 1688, didn’t think the punishment he described (and quoted here), were harsh enough: “The slaves are punished…by nailing them down on the ground, and with crooked sticks on every limb, and their applying the fire by degrees from feet and hands, burning them gradually up to the head, whereby their pains are extravagant…by gelding (cutting off the balls) or chopping off half of the foot with an axe. Their punishment are suffered till they are raw; some (masters) put on their (slaves’) skins, pepper and salt to make them smart, at other times their masters will drop melted wax on their slaves’ skins and use several very exquisite torments…” In 1759 CE, F. Voltaire, who had all his life asserted that Africans were naturally inferior to Whites, published ‘Candide,’ a sting on religionists’ slavery of Africans. In 1772 CE, Rev. T. Thompson of the USA wrote that “the trade in Negro slaves on the African coast is in accordance with human principles and the laws of revealed religions.” In 1852 CE, Rev. Josiah, published a Bible defence of Black slavery in America, and in 1863 CE, ‘The London Times, with blazing headline, thundered that the Bible justifies Africans being sold and bought. It advised African slaves to ignore their freedom. Legal abolition of slavery was promptly replaced with colonization from 1880 for the next 80 years. The Berlin Conference to consolidate colonialism took place from Nov. 1884 to Feb. 1885. Charles Carrol published his “Biblical and scientific proof that the Negro is not a member of the human race, in 1900 CE.” Christianity and Islam create dichotomy between ‘Gods’ and humans to foster the master or select elite syndrome, to numb followers, to raise a loyal tribe of mindless servants, useful as idiots.

Islam de-humanizes Africans. Arabs are the most implacable and rabid Black haters on earth. Arabs call Africans abd (abeed), meaning, their ordained slaves. Islam, is their camouflage instrument of coercion, a comprehensive, abeed numbing, brainwashing, entrapping, mass breeding, lethally intoxicating concoction.

The Qur'an distinguishes between races by discriminating against Africans. There is a strong legacy of racism against Africans from early Arab-Islam because the language, traditions, and customs of the Arabs, support the down grading of the African race. Arabs’ attitude to Blacks derives from Genesis’ racist fiction about Noah’s sons. Arabs claim that “the accursed Ham was the progenitor of the Black race; that Japheth begat the full-faced, small eyes Europeans, and that Shem fathered the handsome of face with beautiful hair Arabs.” Arabs conveniently forget that they were produced by the mixture between their most advanced and superior race, the Kushites (Blacks), and the low-class, primitive White tribes that invaded Arabia land of the Blacks from 1550 BCE.

After conquering Egypt, Arabs began demanding Nubian slaves. From as early as 6 CE, they had developed slavery supply networks out of Africa, from the Sahara to the Red Sea, to Ethiopia, Somalia, and East Africa, to feed demands for slaves all over the Islamic world and the Indian Ocean region. The African male slaves were castrated and used as domestic servants, or to work the Sahara salt deposits, or on farms all over the Islamic world. The African female servants were continuously raped before being sold to households to be used as sex labour. This Arab trade in African slaves went on uninterrupted from the 6th century CE, to the 19th century CE, softening Africa militarily, culturally, economically, socially and politically, for the joint European and Arab onslaught on African people and economy, from the 15th century CE. Arabs, not only pioneered African slavery, they were also the principal raiders and middle men for the Atlantic slave trade that decimated populations in West African. Arabs in 1400 years enslaved and killed twenty times more Africans than the Whites did in 400 years. In the late 18th century CE, with most of the slave trade along the West African coast dominated by Christians, the bulk of the Arab slave trade shifted to Zanzibar, conquered then by Omani Arabs.

Dr. Azumah in his book, The Legacy of Arab-Islam in Africa, provides several examples of Islam’s hatred of Blacks. There is the hadith example in which an Ethiopian woman laments her racial inferiority to Muhammad, who consoles her by saying, "In Paradise, the whiteness of the Ethiopian will be seen over the stretch of a thousand years." Another hadith quotes Muhammad thus: "Do not bring black into your pedigree." In fact, the Arabic word for slave, “Abd,” became equated with Blacks with the advent of Islam. Osama Bin Laden, in a discussion with the Sudanese-American novelist, Kola Boof, in Morocco in 1996 said: “When next you meet an Arab, you should ask what the Arabic word is for slave; you’ll discover that the words are the same “abeed.” Which is why, when an Arab looks at a black African, what he sees is a slave.”

Muhammad owned and sold Black slaves. He ordered and built the pulpit of his mosque with African slave labour. The Qur'an encourages sex with female slaves in several places. Classical Islamic law allows a light-skinned Muslim man to marry a Black woman, but a Black Muslim man is restricted from marrying a light-skinned woman. As their literature puts it: "Only a whore, prefers blacks, the good woman will welcome death rather than being touched by a black man.” So interwoven is slavery with Islam that Islam’s holiest city, Mecca (site of the Hajj pilgrimage), was a slave trading capital. Quoting Azumah again, up until the 20th century, Mecca served as the gateway to the Muslim world for slaves brought out of Africa. "It became a custom for pilgrims to take slaves for sale in Mecca or buy one or two while on Hajj, as souvenirs to be kept, sold, or given as gifts, back home.” The African male slaves were castrated and the African female slaves were continuously raped. Off-spring of the illicit encounters were largely destroyed as unworthy to live. Between 650 CE and 1905 CE, over 20, 000,000 African slaves had been delivered through the Tans-Sahara route alone to the Islamic world. Dr. John Alembellah Azumah in, ‘The Legacy of Arab-Islam in Africa,’ estimates that over 80 million more died en-route.

A text from Dr. Azumah’s book provides this quote from a Zanzibar observer about the travails of African slaves’ en-route to slave markets around the Arabic world. “As they filed past, we noticed many chained together by the neck... The women, who were as numerous as the men, carried babies on their backs in addition to a tusk of ivory or other burden on their heads... It is difficult to adequately describe the filthy state of their bodies; in many instances not only scarred by [the whip], but feet and shoulders were a mass of open sores... half-starved ill-treated creatures who, weary and friendless, must have longed for death.” A Muslim herdsman, in Dr. Azumah’s book described the fate of those who became too ill or too weak to continue the journey as follows: “We speared them at once! For, if we did not, others would pretend they are ill, in order to avoid carrying their loads. No! We never leave them alive on the road; they all know this custom.” When asked who carries the ivory when a mother gets too tired to carry both her baby and the ivory, the herdsman replied, "She does! We cannot leave valuable ivory on the road. We spear the child and make her burden lighter.”

Arab and Persian literature depicts Blacks as "stupid, untruthful, vicious, sexually unbridled, ugly and distorted, excessively merry and easily affected by music and drink.” Nasir al-Din Tusi, a Muslim scholar said of Blacks: "The ape is more capable of being trained than the Negro.” Ibn Khaldun, an early Muslim thinker and scholar, writes that Blacks are "only humans who are closer to dumb animals than to rational beings." To Ibn Khaldum, “Blacks are characterized by levity and excitability and great emotionalism,” and added that “they are every where described as stupid.” Ibn Sina (Avicenna 980–1037), Arab’s most famous and influential philosopher/scientist in Islam, described Blacks as “people who are by their very nature slaves.” He wrote: “All African women are prostitutes, and the whole race of African men, are abeed (slave) stock.” He equated Black people with “rats plaguing the earth.” Al-Dimashqi, an Arab pseudo scientist wrote, “the Equator is inhabited by communities of blacks who may be numbered among the savage beasts. Their complexion and hair are burnt and they are physically and morally abnormal. Their brains almost boil from the sun’s heat…..” Ibn al-Faqih al-Hamadhani painted this no less horrid picture of Black people, “…..the zanj (the blacks) are overdone until they are burned, so that the child comes out between black, murky, malodorous, stinking, and crinkly-haired, with uneven limbs, deficient minds, and depraved passions…..”

NAIWU OSAHON

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